THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

IRVINE 


GIFT  OF 

William  Tesche 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2007 


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Copyright,  1  S01 , 


M.  WALTER    DUNNE, 

PUBLISHER 


MARIE  STUART  AND   CHASTELARD 
Hand-painted  pJwtogravure  after  the  painting  by  Micquet. 


^0 

F7 


Copypight,   1  901, 


M.  WALT  ER    DUNNE, 

PUBLISHER 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Marie  Stuart  and  Chastelard Frontispiece 

Hand-painted  photogravure  after  the  painting  by  Micquet 

The  Girondins 247 

Photogravure  after  the  painting  by  Delaroche  .    - 


(vii) 


SPECIAL   INTRODUCTION 


When  we  pause  to  think  of  a  particular  nation,  or 
literature,  we  see  that  it  stands  for,  or  typifies, 
certain  qualities.  In  Greece,  beauty  and  art  were 
dominant ;  in  Rome,  dominion  and  written  law.  In  France 
came  very  early  a  certain  flowerage  of  culture,  the  direct 
product  of  intelligence  and  art,  so  that  it  has  long  had 
supremacy  for  the  finest  things  that  engage  the  human 
mind. 

There  are  writers  who  say  that  when  you  go  to  Paris 
you  feel  at  once  its  seductive  atmosphere  and  thrill.  You 
seem  to  be  in  an  entrancing  world  where  pleasure,  gayety, 
wit  and  intelligence  abound,  and  where  art  permeates  and 
inspires  everything.  Only  there  could  it  be  said  of  a  con- 
spirator against  the  life  of  the  nation's  ruler  that  his  throw- 
ing of  a  bomb,  execrable  as  it  is,  was  a  (<  beautiful  gesture." 
This  may  be  an  extravagant  illustration,  but  it  will  serve 
to  show  how  beauty  almost  condones  crime,  and  how  it 
lifts  up  to  honor  all  that  is  well  shaped  and  well  said  with 
the  people  who  use  the  flexible  French  language. 

This  tongue  is  a  wonderful  instrument,  indeed,  in  the 
hands  of  its  masters.  Who  would  not  give  up  his  days 
and  nights  to  attain  the  art  of  Flaubert  and  Maupassant 
rather  than  to  spend  them  upon  Addison  —  exemplar  though 
Addison  was  for  those  of  his  generation  in  respect  to 
style  ? 

In  the  French  feuilletonists  even  we  see  that  style  is  the 
watchword.  A  recent  writer  remarks  that  the  eighty  daily 
papers  of  the  French  metropolis  disseminate  ideas  rather 
than  concrete  news,  and  that  their  journalism  is  not  a  prov- 
ince outside  of  literature,  but  it  is  literature.  And  all  this 
signifies  much. 

(ix) 


x  SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION 

The  French  writer  of  essays  and  poems  may  not  invari- 
ably have  much  to  say,  but  what  constitutes  his  message 
he  says  well.  He  holds  to  verity  rather  than  to  mysticism. 
He  deplores  lumbering  and  awkward  expression.  Poetic 
and  fruitful  of  thought  as  Richter,  the  German,  and  Car- 
lyle,  the  Englishman,  are,  they  are  too  nebulous  to  suit  the 
French  taste ;  and  in  spite  of  Taine's  acuteness  as  a  critic, 
Carlyle  remained  an  unsolved  riddle  to  him.  For  lucidity 
and  not  obscurity  is  the  French  author's  primary  trait. 

It  has  been  said  that  <(  it  is  impossible  to  be  at  once  correct 
and  obscure  in  French,  f  The  language  perhaps  lends  itself 
to  clarity  and  proportion.  Such  critics  as  Scherer  and  St. 
Beuve  rank  among  the  very  first  in  the  world,  for  their 
keen  perception,  their  balanced  judgment,  and  their  fluid, 
captivating  style.  Vivacity,  or  esprit,  lightness  of  touch, 
and  a  fine  aerial  delicacy  in  the  French  essay  or  poem 
never  fail  to  confront  the  reader,  and  lead  him  on. 

Sometimes  the  flippant,  staccato  style  of  as  great  a  writer 
as  Victor  Hugo  may  seem  to  the  English  mind  too  thin, 
too  much  a  pose  or  an  attitude  to  be  nutrient,  but  with 
his  best  thoughts  this  form  produces  magical  influence. 
If  we  cannot  all  credit  the  supremacy  that  Swinburne  al- 
lots him,  few  there  are  who  venture  to  deny  his  masterly 
literary  force.  A  quatrain  of  Emerson's,  to  be  sure,  has  a 
depth  of  thought  enfolded  in  it  that  might  furnish  forth 
the  substance  for  a  long  lyric  in  the  Hugo  manner.  Yet 
the  majority  of  readers  in  any  country  would  most  likely 
better  enjoy  the  diluted  lyric  than  the  compressed  quatrain. 

It  is  noticeable  that,  with  Villon  and  Verlaine,  the  aspir- 
ing translator  stands  baffled.  Their  delicacy  of  word- 
structure  has  no  equivalent  outside  of  the  French  tongue. 
Lamartine  and  Beranger  deal  with  themes  that  are  more 
cosmopolitan  than  these  frailer  and  daintier  writers,  and, 
therefore,  are  better  known  to  us  through  translations. 

Of  the  poets  which  French  literature  has  to  show  —  Ro- 
mantic, Parnassian,  and  Symbolist  or  Decadent — reams 
have  been  from  time  to  time  written.  Lanson  says,  in  a 
recent  exhaustive  essay  on  the  latest  French  poets,  that 
"when  Victor  Hugo  took  leave  of  the  world  in  1885  it 
seemed  as  if  he  had  carried  French  poetry  with  him."    But 


SPECIAL   INTRODUCTION  xi 

the  work  of  Banville,  Leconte  de  Lisle,  Sully-Prudhomme, 
Coppee  and  others  was  left.  There  are  indeed  too  many- 
names  to  note  and  to  put  in  fair  perspective  in  a  small 
space,  for  an  opportunity  here  to  consider  well  the  wonder- 
ful body  of  French  verse,  early  and  late. 

The  Decadent  school  of  which  we  have  heard  so  much, 
with  their  whims  of  syntax  and  color,  their  dismissal  of 
concrete  fact  for  atmosphere  and  spirit,  and  their  (<  polymor- 
phous B  forms,  do  not  show  now  their  <(  violent  zeal.8 
They  were  not  to  bring  an  end  to  French  poetry.  Lanson 
says  they  were  merely  to  modify  its  development.  Their 
first  flavor  perhaps  will  change,  if  it  has  not  already  done 
so,  for  better  forms  to  follow. 

But  it  must  be  said  here  that  a  great  literature,  so 
massive  and  multi-colored  as  the  French,  cannot  be  known 
thoroughly  by  any  one  (if  I  may  borrow  Professor 
Dowden's  idea).  Many  great  and  minor  authors  must  be 
left  out  of  any  brief  synopsis  of  it.  Of  such  varying 
names  as  Renan,  De  Musset,  Gautier,  Daudet,  La  Fontaine, 
and  Joubert  alone  there  is  enough  to  be  said  for  separate 
monographs.  Saintsbury  affirms  that  <(  of  all  European 
Literature  the  French  is  by  general  consent  that  which 
possesses  the  most  uniformly  fertile,  brilliant,  and  unbroken 
history. })  It  took  nearly  a  thousand  years  to  develop  it, 
and,  though  of  Latin  origin,  it  has  differentiated  itself 
widely  from  that  which  is  to  be  found  in  any  one  of  the 
other  Latin-born  tongues.  Indeed,  its  early  dominance  in 
Europe  has  overflowed  to  the  equipment  of  authors  not 
natives  of  France.  Can  it  be  doubted  that  Arnold  and 
Pater  of  England,  for  instances  easily  recognized,  would 
not  have  written  as  they  have  had  they  not  been  influenced 
by  French  models. 

The  French  are  said  to  write  in  jest  what  they  feel  in 
earnest.  In  Rivarol's  phrase,  the  French  language  has  a 
probite  attachet  h  son  gfoiie.  Along  with  these,  and 
other  traits,  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  French  have  much 
to  show  that  comes  up  to  the  altitude  of  iBschylus  and 
Shakespeare,  and  their  kind.  But  French  writers  are  great 
in  lesser  fields  than  the  epic  or  the  tragedy.  They  are 
masters  of  mirth  and  lightness,  and  especially  of   the  short 


xii 


SPECIAL   INTRODUCTION 


story.  They  excel  in  opalescent  grace,  in  charm  of  narra- 
tive; and,  if  authorship  has  for  its  purpose  the  delight  of 
the  reader  through  the  spell  of  sorcery,  by  the  magic 
mating  of  words  to  ideas,  then  there  is  no  literature  in  the 
world  which  can  make  that  of  the  French  tongue  *eeni 
•ubsident  or  secondary. 


v/j^^' 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

HUMOR 

The  Strolling  Players 5 

by  Paul  Scarron 
SENTIMENT 

The  Ruins  of  Empires 95 

by  Count  Volney 

Letters  to  Anonyma 145 

by  Prosper  Merimee 

Twenty-five  Years   of  My  Life 247 

by  Alphonse  de  Lamartine 
ROMANCE 

Salammbo 327 

by  Gustave  Flaubert 


(xiii) 


HUMOR 

SCARRON 

The  Strolling  Players 


«> 


HUMOR 

PAUL  SCARRON 

In  the  shadow  of  Madame  de  Maintenon's  personality  the 
literary  brilliance  of  her  first  husband  has  been  somewhat 
obscured.  Paul  Scarron  was  born  in  1610,  the  son  of  a 
parliament  man.  He  was  put  into  the  church  but  soon  de- 
veloped capacities  better  fitted  to  a  secular  career.  As  the 
consequence  of  reckless  roistering  he  contracted  a  disease  of 
a  rheumatic  nature  with  complications  that  baffled  the  doc- 
tors and  made  a  distorted  cripple  of  him  for  the  last  twenty 
years  of  his  life.  Like  Heine,  he  existed  in  physical  torment 
which  left  his  brain  undimmed,  and,  strangely  enough,  it  was 
while  in  this  state  of  pain  and  poverty  that  the  Maintenon 
girl  of  sixteen  became  his  faithful  wife.  For  eight  years  she 
was  the  light  of  his  life  and  shared  the  admiration  of  his 
crowd  of  friends  who  were  regaled  with  their  feasts  of  wit 
and  philosophic  art  of  making  the  best  of  bad  luck. 

He  earned  something  as  a  ready  writer  for  the  booksellers 
and  for  a  time  he  enjoyed  pensions  from  the  queen  and  Car- 
dinal Mazarin.  He  lost  them  by  rash  radicalism.  His  lively 
plays,  Jodelet  and  Don  Japhet  d'ArmJnie,  are  the  best  known 
of  his  dramatic  works,  and  he  is  credited  with  having  given 
direct  inspiration  to  Moliere.  The  poems  and  novels  are  to 
be  judged  in  the  light  of  the  times.  They  abound  in  racy 
touches  and  pungent  wit,  each  point  having  its  aim  and  pur- 
pose. 

The  happiest  legacy  of  Scarron's  caustic  pen  is  the  Roman 
Comiquc.  It  tells  the  adventures  of  a  troop  of  strolling  play- 
ers in  the  days  when  the  drama  was  content  to  go  a  gipsy- 
ing  in  wayside  tents  and  its  merriest  performances  were  in 
the  old  tavern  yards.  As  the  tale  unfolds  it  shows  a  fine 
perspective  of  unconventional  life  and  manners.  This  comic 
romance  illustrates  French  humor  as  well  as  national  charac- 
teristics with  a  vivacity  unrivaled  up  to  its  period.  The  ex- 
traordinary mixture  of  the  romantic  and  tragic  in  his  own 
career  lends  a  peculiar  interest  to  Paul  Scarron  and  his  work. 
He  died  at  fifty. 
(4) 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS 


A  COMPANY  OF  STROLLERS  COMB  TO  THE  TOWN 

OF  MANS 

Bright  Phoebus  had  already  performed  above  half  his 
career  ;  and  his  chariot  having  passed  the  meridian, 
and  got  on  the  declivity  of  the  sky,  rolled  on  swifter 
than  he  desired.  Had  his  horses  been  willing  to  have  made 
use  of  the  slopingness  of  the  way,  they  might  have  finished 
the  remainder  of  the  day  in  less  than  half  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  ;  but  instead  of  pulling  amain,  they  curveted  about, 
snuffing  a  briny  air,  which  set  them  a-neighing,  and  made 
them  sensible  that  they  were  near  the  sea,  where  their  father 
is  said  to  take  his  rest  every  night.  To  speak  more  like  a 
man,  and  in  plainer  terms,  it  was  betwixt  five  and  six  of 
the  clock,  when  a  cart  came  into  the  market-place  of  Mans. 
This  cart  was  drawn  by  two  yoke  of  lean  oxen,  led  by  a 
breeding  mare,  who  had  a  colt  that  skipped  to  and  fro  like 
a  silly  creature  as  he  was.  The  cart  was  laden  with  trunks, 
portmanteaus,  and  great  packs  of  painted  clothes,  that  made 
a  sort  of  pyramid,  on  the  top  of  which  sat  a  damsel,  in  a 
half-city,  half-country  dress.  A  young  man,  as  poor  in 
clothes  as  rich  in  mien,  walked  by  the  side  of  the  cart:  he 
had  a  great  patch  on  his  face  (which  covered  one  of  his  eyes 
and  half  of  one  cheek),  and  carried  a  long  birding-piece  on 
his  shoulder,  wherewith  he  had  murdered  several  magpies, 
jays,  and  crows,  which  having  strung  together  made  him  a 
sort  of  bandoleer  ;  at  the  bottom  of  wThich  hung  a  hen  and 
goose,  that  looked  as  if  they  had  been  taken  from  the 
enemy  by  way  of  plunder.  Instead  of  a  hat  he  wore  a 
nightcap,  tied  about  his  head  with  garters  of  several  col- 
ors, and  which  was  without  doubt  a  kind  of  unfinished 
turban.      His  doublet  was   a    griset-coat,  girt    about  with   a 

(5) 


6  SCARRON 

leather  thong,  which  served  likewise  to  support  a  rapier  so 
very  long,  that  it  could  not  be  used  dexterously  without  the 
help  of  a  rest.  He  wore  a  pair  of  breeches  tucked  up  to 
above  the  middle  of  his  thighs,  like  those  that  players  have 
when  they  represent  an  ancient  hero.  Instead  of  shoes  he 
wore  tragic  buskins,  bespattered  with  dirt  up  to  the  ankles. 
An  old  man,  something  more  regular  in  his  dress,  though 
in  very  ordinary  habit,  walked  by  his  side.  He  carried  a 
bass  viol  on  his  shoulders ;  and  because  he  stooped  a  little 
as  he  went,  one  might  have  taken  him  at  a  distance  for  a 
great  tortoise  walking  upon  his  hind  feet.  Some  critic  or 
other  will  perhaps  find  fault  with  the  comparison,  by  rea- 
son of  the  disproportion  between  that  creature  and  a  man  ; 
but  I  speak  of  those  great  tortoises  that  are  to  be  found 
in  the  Indies ;  and  besides,  I  make  bold  to  use  the  simile 
upon  my  own  authority.  Let  us  return  to  our  strolling 
company.  They  passed  by  the  tennis-court  at  the  "Hind,8 
before  which  were  then  assembled  several  of  the  chief 
men  of  the  town.  The  novelty  of  our  strollers'  equipage, 
and  the  noise  of  the  mob,  who  by  this  time  had 
gathered  about  the  cart,  drew  the  eyes  of  all  those 
honorable  burgomasters  upon  our  unknown  travelers. 
Among  the  rest,  an  under-sheriff,  La  Rappiniere  by 
name,  made  up  to  them,  and  with  the  authority  of  a 
magistrate,  asked  them  who  they  were.  The  young 
man,  whom  I  described  before,  without  offering  to 
pull  off  his  turban  (because  with  one  hand  he  held  his 
gun,  and  with  the  other  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  lest  it 
should  beat  against  his  legs),  answered  him  that  they  were 
Frenchmen  by  birth,  and  players  by  profession  :  that  his 
stage  name  was  Destiny  ;  his  old  comrade's  Rancour ;  and 
the  gentlewoman  (who  sat  roosting  like  a  hen  on  the  top 
of  their  baggage)  Cave.  This  odd  name  set  some  of  the 
company  a  laughing ;  whereupon  the  young  stroller  added 
that  the  name  of  Cave  ought  not  to  seem  more  strange  to 
men  of  wit  than  those  of  La  Montagne,  Valley,  Rose,  or 
Thorn.  The  conversation  ended  with  the  noise  of  blows, 
cursing,  and  swearing,  that  was  heard  before  the  cart.  The 
squabble  had  been  occasioned  by  the  servant  of  the  tennis- 
court  falling  foul  upon    the  carter,  without   saying    why  or 


THE   STROLLING  PLAYERS  7 

wherefore  ;  yet  the  reason  was  because  his  oxen  and  mare 
had  been  a  little  too  free  with  a  truss  of  hay  that  lay  before 
the  door.  However,  the  combatants  were  at  length  parted  ; 
and  the  mistress  of  the  tennis-court,  who  loved  to  hear  a 
play  more  than  a  sermon  or  vespers,  out  of  unheard  of 
generosity  in  a  keeper  of  a  tennis-court,  bid  the  carter  let 
his  cattle  eat  their  bellies  full.  He  took  her  at  her  word  ; 
and  while  the  hungry  beasts  were  feeding,  the  author 
rested  a  while,  and  bethought  himself  what  he  should  say 
in  the  next  chapter. 


WHAT  SORT  OF  MAN  LA  RAPPINIERE  WAS 

The  Sieur  la  Rappiniere  was  at  that  time  the  droll  or 
jester  of  Mans ;  for  you  must  know  there  is  not 
a  town  in  France,  though  never  so  small,  but  has 
such  an  animal  belonging  to  it.  The  city  of  Paris  has 
several  in  each  ward,  and  I  myself  might  have  been  the 
jester  of  mine,  had  I  been  willing  to  undertake  it ;  but 
everybody  knows,  it  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  forsaken 
all  the  vanities  of  this  world.  To  return  to  Monsieur  la 
Rappiniere.  He  soon  renewed  the  conversation  which 
the  squabble  had  interrupted,  and  asked  the  young  player 
whether  their  company  consisted  only  of  Mrs.  Cave,  Mon- 
sieur Rancour,  and  himself.  <(  Our  company, w  answered 
he,  <(  is  as  complete  as  that  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  or  of 
his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Epernon  ;  but  through  a  misfortune 
that  befell  us  at  Tours,  where  our  rattle-headed  doorkeeper 
happened  to  kill  one  of  the  Fusiliers  of  the  intendant  of 
the  province,  we  were  forced  to  fly  in  a  hurry,  and  in  the 
sad  pickle  you  see  us. w  (<  Those  Fusiliers  of  the  inten- 
dants,w  said  La  Rappiniere,  <(  have  been  as  troublesome  to 
you  strollers  as  La  Fleche."  (<  Ay,  devil  take  them,*  said 
the  mistress  of  the  tennis-court,  (<  if  they  could  help  it  we 
should  have  no  plays. *  "Nay,*  answered  the  old  stroller, 
<(  had  we  but  the  keys  of  our  trunks,  we  might  entertain 
the  town  for  four  or  five  days,  for  all  them,  before  we 
reach  Alencon,  where  the  rest  of   our   company  are  to  ren- 


8  SCARRON 

dezvous.w  This  player's  answer  made  everybody  to  prick 
up  their  ears.  La  Rappiniere  offered  an  old  gown  of  his 
wife's  to  Cave,  and  the  tennis  woman  two  or  three  suits 
of  clothes,  which  had  been  left  with  her  in  pawn,  to  Des- 
tiny and  Rancour.  "But,"  added  some  of  the  standers-by, 
*  there  are  but  three  of  you.  *  "  No  matter  for  that,  *  re- 
plied Rancour,  <c  for  I  once  acted  a  whole  play  myself,  and 
represented  the  king,  queen,  and  the  ambassador  with  my 
single  person.  I  made  use  of  a  false  treble  tone  when  I 
personated  the  queen ;  I  spoke  through  the  nose  for  the 
ambassador,  and  addressed  myself  to  the  crown  which  I 
placed  upon  a  chair ;  and  as  for  the  king,  I  resumed  my 
seat,  crown,  and  gravity,  and  lowered  the  key  of  my  voice 
to  a  bass.  Now  to  convince  you  of  this,  if  you  will  satisfy 
our  carter,  defray  our  charges  in  the  inn,  and  lend  us 
what  clothes  you  can  spare,  we  will  act  still  before  night ; 
otherwise  we  must  beg  leave  to  go  to  drink,  or  rest  our- 
selves, for  we  are  come  a  great  way."  The  company  liked 
the  proposal,  but  that  devil  La  Rappiniere,  who  was  ever 
hatching  some  mischief  or  other,  said  there  was  no  occa- 
sion for  any  other  clothes  than  those  of  two  young  men  of 
the  town,  who  were  then  playing  a  set  at  tennis,  and  that 
Mrs.  Cave  in  her  ordinary  dress  might  pass  for  anything 
in  a  play.  No  sooner  said  but  done  ;  in  less  than  half  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  the  strollers  drank  three  or  four  glasses 
of  wine  apiece ;  shifted  themselves ;  and  the  company,  who 
by  this  time  had  increased  to  a  full  audience,  having  taken 
their  places  in  an  upper  room,  a  dirty  cloth,  instead  of  a 
painted  curtain,  was  drawn  up,  which  discovered  Destiny 
lying  on  a  quilt,  with  a  strawberry  basket  on  his  head  in 
the  room  of  a  crown,  rubbing  his  eyes  like  one  who  had 
waked  out  of  his  sleep,  and  mouthing  in  the  tone  of 
Mondori  the  part  of  Herod,  which   begins  thus:  — 

<(  Injurious  phantom,  that  disturbs  my  rest.w 

The  patch  which  almost  covered  one  half  of  his  face  did 
not  hinder  him  from  showing  himself  an  excellent  player. 
Madam  Cave  acted  to  admiration  the  parts  of  Mariamne 
and  Salome  ;  Rancour  pleased  everybody  with  his  action  ; 
and  the  play  was  carrying  on  to  a  happy  conclusion,  when 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  9 

the  devil,  who  never  sleeps,  interposed,  and  made  the 
tragedy  end,  not  with  the  death  of  Mariamne  and  Herod's 
despair,  but  with  a  thousand  cuffs  and  boxes  on  the  ears, 
as  many  kicks,  numberless  oaths,  and,  last  of  all,  a  verbal 
process  and  information,  which  was  taken  out  by  La  Rap- 
piniere, the  most  skillful  of  all  men  in  those  matters. 


WHAT  DEPLORABLE   SUCCESS  THE  PLAY   HAD 

In  AivL  the  inferior  towns  of  the  kingdom,  there  is  gener- 
ally a  tennis-court,  whither  all  the  idle  people  are  used 
to  resort,  some  to  play,  others  only  to  look  on.  It  is 
in  those  places  where  cursing  and  swearing  passes  for  a  rhe- 
torical flourish,  and  where  the  absent  are  murdered  with  the 
tongues  of  backbiters  and  bullies ;  no  man  escapes  scot-free ; 
there  all  live  in  open  defiance,  and  everybody  is  admitted  to 
rail  according  to  his  talent.  It  was  in  one  of  these  tennis- 
courts,  if  my  memory  fails  me  not,  that  I  left  three  comical 
persons  reciting  Mariamne  before  an  honorable  company,  at 
which  presided  Monsieur  la  Rappiniere.  Now  while  Herod 
and  Mariamne  were  telling  each  other  their  faults,  the  two 
young  men,  whose  clothes  they  had  so  freely  borrowed, 
came  into  the  room  in  their  drawers,  each  of  them  with 
his  racket  in  his  hand,  having  neglected  to  get  themselves 
rubbed,  that  they  might  come  and  hear  the  play.  They 
were  not  long  in  the  room  before  they  perceived  that  Herod 
and  Pherores  had  their  clothes  on  ;  when  the  most  passion- 
ate of  the  two,  addressing  himself  to  the  waiter  of  the  tennis- 
court  :  ((  Thou  son  of  a  dog, w  said  he  to  him  ;  <(  why  didst 
thou  give  my  clothes  to  that  mountebank  ?  w  The  innocent 
waiter,  who  knew  him  to  be  a  brutish  sort  of  a  man,  told 
him  with  great  humility  that  he  had  no  hand  in  it.  <(  Who, 
then,  scoundrel  ? }>  added  he.  The  poor  fellow  durst  not  ac- 
cuse La  Rappiniere  in  his  presence ;  but  he  himself,  the 
most  insolent  of  all  men,  rising  from  his  seat,  told  him, 
(<  It  was  I  ;  what  have  you  to  say  to  it?w  "That  you  are 
a  rascal, w  replied  the  other  ;  and  at  the  same  time  gave 
him  a  plaguy  blow  over  the  pate  with  his  racket.     La  Rap- 


io  SCARRON 

piniere  was  so  surprised  to  be  struck  first,  whereas  he  used 
to  be  beforehand  with  all  men,  that  he  stood  motionless, 
either  through  amazement,  or  because  he  was  not  yet  angry 
enough,  and  that  it  was  not  a  small  provocation  that  could 
make  him  resolve  to  fight,  though  it  were  but  at  fisticuffs. 
Nay,  perhaps  the  quarrel  had  gone  no  farther,  had  not  his 
man,  who  was  more  choleric  than  he,  fallen  foul  upon  the 
aggressor,  and  dealt  him  a  sound  cuff  on  the  chops,  and 
in  the  middle  of  his  face,  and  afterward  in  a  great  many 
other  places  where  he  could  find  room  to  imprint  his  fury. 
La  Rappiniere  charged  him  behind,  and  worked  on  him  like 
one  that  had  received  the  first  provocation  :  a  relation  of 
his  adversaries  invested  La  Rappiniere  after  the  same  man- 
ner. This  relation  was  attacked  by  one  of  La  Rappiniere's 
friends,  in  order  to  make  a  diversion :  this  combatant  was 
assaulted  by  another,  and  this  last  again  by  another.  In 
short,  the  whole  audience  divided  into  parties ;  some  cursed 
and  swore ;  others  called  names  ;  all  beat  one  another.  The 
tennis  woman,  who  saw  her  goods  broken  to  pieces,  rent  the 
air  with  doleful  cries.  In  all  probability  they  had  murdered 
one  another  with  stools,  kicks,  and  cuffs,  had  not  some  of  the 
magistrates  of  the  town  (who  happened  at  that  time  to  be 
walking  in  the  piazza  of  the  market-place,  with  Des  Essars, 
seneschal  of  Mayne)  ran  with  all  speed  to  the  squabble. 
Some  proposed  to  throw  two  or  three  pails  full  of  water  on 
the  combatants ;  which  perhaps  might  have  been  successful : 
however,  they  at  length  gave  over  fighting  through  weari- 
ness. Beside  two  Capuchins,  who  out  of  charity  flung 
themselves  into  the  field  of  battle,  procured,  though  not  a 
firm  peace  betwixt  the  contending  parties,  yet  a  sort  of 
truce  ;  during  which  a  negotiation  was  set  on  foot,  without 
derogating  from  the  informations  that  were  taken  on  both 
sides,  in  order  to  a  trial  in  due  course  of  law.  Destiny,  one 
of  the  strollers,  performed  wonders  at  boxing ;  whose  great 
actions  are  talked  of  to  this  very  day  in  the  town  of  Mans, 
according  to  the  faithful  account  delivered  by  the  two  young 
men  that  raised  the  squabble,  whom  he  particularly  en- 
gaged, and  almost  cuffed  to  death,  besides  a  great  many 
others  of  the  enemy,  whom  he  disabled  with  the  first  blow. 
Having  lost  his  patch  in  the   scuffle,  people  took  notice  his 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  n 

face  was  as  fine  as  his  shape.  The  bloody  noses  were  hand- 
somely washed  with  clean  water  :  those  that  had  their  bands 
torn,  put  on  others  instead  of  them,  cataplasms  were  applied 
where  need  required  ;  some  few  stitches  served  to  darn  many 
a  torn  doublet ;  and  the  household  goods  were  set  in  their 
proper  places  though  not  so  sound  and  whole  as  they  were 
before.  In  short,  a  moment  after  there  remained  nothing 
of  the  fight  but  a  great  spite  and  animosity,  which  appeared 
in  the  faces  of  those  of  both  parties.  The  poor  strollers  went 
out  a  long  while  after  the  combat  with  La  Rappiniere,  who 
was  still  for  making  speeches.  In  their  way  from  the  ten- 
nis-court to  the  market-place,  they  were  invested  by  seven 
or  eight  bullies  with  swords  in  their  hands.  La  Rappiniere 
according  to  custom,  was  in  a  great  fright,  and  indeed  not 
without  cause,  had  not  Destiny  generously  thrust  himself 
between  him  and  a  sword  which  was  about  to  run  him 
through  ;  however,  he  could  not  so  well  parry  the  thrust, 
but  that  he  received  a  small  wound  in  the  arm.  There- 
upon he  drew  his  rapier,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
beat  two  swords  out  of  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  broke  two 
or  three  skulls,  battered  and  slashed  as  many  faces,  and 
discomfited  so  dexterously  the  gentlemen  of  the  ambuscade, 
that  all  the  bystanders  unanimously  confessed  they  never 
had  seen  so  valiant  a  champion.  This  abortive  plot  had 
been  laid  against  La  Rappiniere  by  two  squires,  whereof 
one  married  the  sister  of  him  who  began  the  fight  with  a 
great  blow  with  a  racket,  by  which  in  all  likelihood,  La 
Rappiniere  had  been  spoiled  forever,  but  for  the  valiant 
protector,  whom  Providence  had  raised  for  him  in  the  per- 
son of  our  stout  player.  This  benefit  melted  his  heart  of 
flint,  insomuch,  that  he  would  not  suffer  the  miserable  re- 
mains of  a  scattered  company  of  strollers  to  lodge  in  an  inn  ; 
but  brought  them  to  his  own  house,  where  the  carter  hav- 
ing laid  down  the  strolling  furniture,  returned  home  to  his 
village. 


12  SCARRON 


HEREIN   FARTHER  MENTION  IS   MADE  OF   MON- 
SIEUR LA  RAPPINIERE ;  AND  OF  WHAT 
HAPPENED  THAT  NIGHT  AT 
HIS  HOUSE 

Madam  la  Rappini&re  received  the  company  with  a  great 
deal  of  civility,  as  being  the  most  submissive  of 
wives ;  she  was  indifferently  handsome,  though  so 
very  lean  and  dry,  that  she  never  snuffed  a  candle  with  her 
fingers  but  they  presently  caught  fire.  I  could  relate  a 
thousand  curious  stories  about  her,  which  I  pass  by  for 
fear  of  being  tedious.  The  first  compliments  were  scarce 
over  when  the  two  ladies  grew  so  well  acquainted  that  they 
began  with  my  dear  and  my  dearest.  La  Rappiniere,  who 
was  as  great  a  braggadocio  as  any  in  the  world,  was  no 
sooner  come  into  the  room,  that  he  bid  somebody  go  to  the 
kitchen  and  larder,  and  hasten  supper.  This  was  a  mere 
rodomontade ;  for  besides  his  valet,  who  likewise  dressed 
his  horses,  there  was  nobody  in  his  house  but  a  young 
maid  and  an  old  lame  woman,  as  crazy  as  a  mangy  dog. 
His  vanity  was  punished  by  an  accident  that  filled  him 
with  confusion.  He  was  used  to  diet  at  the  tavern,  at  the 
expense  of  fools  and  bubbles,  while  his  wife  and  his  orderly 
family  were  reduced  to  feed  on  soup  and  cabbage,  accord- 
ing to  the  custom  of  that  country.  Now,  being  willing  to 
make  a  show  before  his  guests,  and  treat  them  nobly,  he 
was  going  to  slip  behind  his  back  some  money  into  the 
hands  of  his  man,  to  fetch  something  for  supper ;  but 
through  the  awkwardness  either  of  the  servant  or  the  mas- 
ter, the  pence  fell  on  the  chair  he  sat  on,  and  from  thence 
to  the  ground.  La  Rappiniere  looked  blue  upon  it ;  his  wife 
blushed  ;  the  man  cursed.  Cave  was  uneasy  ;  Rancour  per- 
haps did  not  mind  it ;  and  as  for  Destiny,  I  could  not  well 
learn  what  effect  it  had  upon  his  mind.  However,  the 
money  was  taken  up,  and  while  supper  was  getting  ready 
they  engaged  in  conversation.  La  Rappiniere  asked  Destiny 
why  he  disguised  his  face  with  a  patch.  He  answered,  he 
had  great  reason  to  do  it,   and  as  he  had    other   clothes   on 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  13 

by  accident,  so  he  likewise  designed  to  make  his  face  un- 
known to  some  enemies  he  had.  At  last  supper  came  in, 
good  or  bad.  La  Rappiniere  drank  so  much,  that  he  felt 
himself  fuddled  ;  Rancour  had  his  load ;  Destiny  supped 
liked  a  sober,  well-bred  man  ;  Cave  like  a  famished  player ; 
and  Madam  la  Rappiniere  like  one  who  had  a  mind  to  lay 
hold  of  the  opportunity  ;  that  is  to  say,  so  very  greedily, 
that  she  got  a  surfeit.  While  the  servants  were  at  supper, 
and  the  beds  making,  La  Rappiniere  teased  his  guests  with 
a  thousand  stories  full  of  vanity.  Destiny  lay  in  a  little 
room  by  himself  ;  Cave  in  a  closet  with  the  chamber-maid  ; 
and  Rancour  with  the  valet  I  know  not  where.  They  all 
had  a  great  mind  to  sleep,  some  through  weariness,  others 
for  having  supped  too  plentifully,  and  yet  they  slept  but 
little ;  so  true  it  is,  that  there  is  nothing  certain  in  this 
world.  After  her  first  sleep,  Madam  la  Rappiniere  had  an 
inclination  to  go  where  kings  are  forced  to  go  themselves 
in  person  ;  her  husband  waked  at  the  same  time,  and  though 
he  had  not  recovered  his  drunkenness,  yet  he  found  him- 
self alone.  He  called  his  wife,  nobody  answered :  where- 
upon he  grew  jealous,  fell  in  a  passion,  and  instantly  rose 
out  of  his  bed  in  a  fury.  As  soon  as  he  was  got  out  of 
the  chamber,  he  heard  a  stamping  of  feet  before  him,  and 
for  some  time  followed  the  noise  through  a  little  gallery 
that  led  to  Destiny's  room.  He  found  himself  so  near 
what  he  pursued,  that  he  trod  upon  its  heels,  and  thinking 
it  to  be  his  wife  he  was  going  to  lay  hold  on  her,  but  his 
hands  could  catch  nothing,  and  his  feet  stumbling  at  the 
same  time,  he  fell  down  upon  his  nose,  and  felt  some- 
thing that  was  pointed  running  into  his  breast.  Thereupon 
he  cried  out  after  a  most  hideous  manner,  (<  Murder  !  mur- 
der !  I  am  stabbed, w  without  letting  go  his  wife,  whom  he 
thought  he  held  by  the  hair,  and  was  struggling  under 
him.  His  cries  and  oaths  set  all  the  house  in  an  uproar, 
and  everybody  ran  to  his  assistance  :  the  maid  with  a 
candle  ;  Rancour  and  the  valet  in  their  dirty  shirts ;  Cave 
in  a  tattered  petticoat ;  Destiny  with  a  sword  in  his  hand, 
and  Madam  la  Rappiniere  last  of  all,  who,  like  all  the  rest, 
was  not  a  little  surprised  to  see  her  furious  husband  grap- 
pling with    a    she-goat,    which    was    kept    in    the    house    to 


i4  SCARRON 

suckle  some  young  puppies,  whose  dam  happened  to  die. 
No  man  was  ever  so  much  out  of  countenance  as  I,a  Rap- 
piniere.  His  wife,  who  presently  suspected  the  truth  of 
the  matter,  asked  him  if  he  was  mad.  He  answered,  with- 
out knowing  well  what  he  said,  that  he  had  taken  the  goat 
for  a  thief ;  Destiny  guessed  the  business,  every  one  re- 
turned to  his  bed,  and  made  what  constructions  he  thought 
fit  upon  the  adventure  ;  as  for  the  goat,  she  was  shut  up 
again  with  her  puppies. 


HEREIN    ARE    CONTAINED    MANY    THINGS   NEC- 
ESSARY TO  BE  KNOWN  FOR  THE  UNDER- 
STANDING OF  THIS  TRUE  HISTORY 

The  strolling  company  consisted  of  Destiny,  Olive,  and 
Rancour,  who  had  each  of  them  a  servant,  who  all 
expected  to  be  one  day  actors-in-chief.  Of  those  serv- 
ants, some  began  to  speak  without  blushing,  or  being  dashed 
out  of  countenance.  But  among  the  rest,  Destiny's  man  acted 
indifferently  well,  understood  what  he  said,  and  did  not  want 
wit.  Mrs.  Star  and  Mrs.  Cave's  daughter  played  the  principal 
parts.  Mrs.  Cave  acted  the  queen  and  the  mother,  and  some- 
times Merry  Andrew's  wife  in  a  farce.  Besides  all  these  they 
had  a  poet,  or  an  author  with  them,  for  all  the  grocers'  shops 
in  the  kingdom  were  stored  with  his  works,  both  in  verse 
and  prose.  This  great  wit  followed  the  company  almost 
against  their  will  ;  but  because  he  was  no  sharer,  and  that 
he  spent  his  own  mone}r  with  them,  they  suffered  him  to 
act  under-parts,  which  he  nevertheless  generally  murdered. 
They  all  perceived  well  enough  that  he  was  in  love  with 
one  of  the  two  she-players  ;  but  however  he  was  so  dis- 
creet, though  a  little  crack-brained,  that  it  was  not  yet 
discovered  which  of  the  two  he  designed  to  wheedle  into 
compliance,  with  the  fair  hopes  of  making  her  immortal. 
He  threatened  the  company  with  a  great  many  plays  of 
■his  own  writing,  but  till  then    had    spared    them,   and   they 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  15 

only  knew  by  conjecture  that  he  was  about  one  called 
(<  Martin  Luther, w  of  which  they  found  the  first  act,  which 
however  he  disowned,  although  it  was  written  with  his  own 
hand.  When  our  strollers  first  arrived,  the  women's  cham- 
ber was  continually  crowded  with  the  most  impertinent  fops 
and  beaux  of  the  town,  whose  eagerness  notwithstanding 
was  frequently  cooled  by  the  indifferent  reception  they  met 
with.  They  talked  all  together  about  plays,  poetry,  poets, 
and  romances,  and  there  could  not  possibly  have  been  more 
noise  unless  they  had  been  fighting.  The  poet,  among  the 
rest,  surrounded  by  three  or  four,  who  without  doubt  were 
the  top  wits  of  the  town,  labored  to  persuade  them  that 
he  had  seen  Corneille,  cracked  many  a  bottle  with  St. 
Amant  and  Beys,  and  lost  a  good  friend  when  Rotrou  died. 
Madam  Cave  and  her  daughter  Angelica  set  their  goods  in 
order  with  as  great  tranquillity  as  if  there  had  been  nobody 
in  the  room.  It  is  true  Angelica's  fair  hands  were  now 
and  then  squeezed  or  kissed  ;  for  these  country  gentlemen 
are  ever  pulling  and  hauling  ;  but  a  kick  on  the  shins,  a 
box  on  the  ear,  or  a  biting,  according  as  occasion  required, 
soon  rid  her  of  those  hot-spurred  lovers,  nor  was  she  rude 
and  impudent  neither,  but  her  free  and  gay  humor  would 
not  suffer  her  to  use  much  ceremony  :  as  for  her  other 
qualities,  she  had  wit  and  was  very  honest.  Mrs.  Star  was  of 
a  quite  different  temper  ;  for  there  never  was  a  more  modest, 
gentle,  and  good-natured  woman  in  the  world,  and  besides, 
she  at  that  time  strained  her  complaisance  so  far,  that  she 
could  not  find  it  in  her  heart  to  turn  these  ogling  fops  out 
of  her  chamber,  though  she  felt  a  great  pain  in  her  sprained 
foot  and  had  therefore  occasion  for  rest.  She  lay  in  her 
clothes  on  a  bed,  surrounded  by  four  or  five  of  these  whin- 
ing, sighing  coxcombs,  stunned  by  abundance  of  puns  and 
clinches,  which  pass  for  good  jests  in  the  country,  and 
often  forcing  a  smile  upon  hearing  things  she  did  not  like. 
But  this  is  one  of  the  greatest  plagues  of  that  profession, 
which  together  with  their  being  obliged  to  laugh  or  weep, 
whether  they  have  a  mind  to  it  or  no,  takes  very  much  from 
their  pleasure  of  being  sometimes  emperors  and  empresses,  and 
of  being  styled  as  fine  as  angels,  though  they  be  little 
handsomer  than  devils,   or  addressed  to  as   young    beauties, 


16  SCARRON 

though  their  hair  and  teeth  be  part  of  their  furniture. 
There  are  a  great  many  more  things  to  be  said  upon  this 
subject,  but  we  must  use  them  sparingly,  and  place  them 
in  several  stations,  for  variety's  sake.  Let  us  return  to 
Madam  Star,  beset  with  country  squires,  the  most  trouble- 
some of  men,  all  great  talkers,  most  of  them  very  imperti- 
nent, and  among  them  some  newly  returned  from  the 
university.  Among  the  rest  appeared  a  little  man,  who 
was  a  widower,  a  lawyer  by  profession,  and  an  officer  in  a 
small  court  of  judicature  in  the  neighborhood.  Since  the 
death  of  his  little  wife,  he  sometimes  threatened  the  women 
to  marry  again,  and  sometimes  the  clergy  of  the  province 
to  turn  priest,  nay  even  a  preaching  prelate.  He  was  the 
greatest  little  fool  that  ever  ran  madding  about  since  Or- 
lando Furioso.  He  had  studied  books  all  his  lifetime ;  but 
though  the  chief  end  of  scholarship  be  the  knowledge  of 
truth  yet  was  he  as  great  a  liar  as  a  page,  proud  and  ob- 
stinate as  a  pedant,  and  so  bad  a  poet  as  to  deserve  drown- 
ing, if  the  government  would  but  have  taken  care  to  rid 
the  kingdom  of  such  a  troublesome  race  of  rhyming  fools. 
As  soon  as  Destiny  and  his  comrades  came  into  the  room, 
without  giving  them  the  time  to  know  who  he  was,  he 
offered  to  read  to  them  a  poem  of  his  own  making,  called 
"The  Deeds  and  Achievements  of  Charlemagne,*  in  four 
and  twenty  books.  This  proposal  put  all  the  company  into 
such  a  fright  as  made  their  hair  stand  on  end ;  but  Des- 
tiny, who  in  this  general  terror  preserved  a  little  judgment, 
told  him  smiling,  that  it  was  not  possible  for  them  to  give 
him  the  hearing  before  supper.  "Well,"  quoth  he,  (<I  will 
however  read  you  a  story  taken  out  of  a  Spanish  book, 
which  was  sent  me  from  Paris,  and  of  which  I  design  to 
make  a  regular  play."  They  shifted  the  discourse  three  or 
four  times  on  purpose  to  avoid  hearing  what  they  supposed 
to  be  in  imitation  of  (<  Guy  of  Warwick, *  or  (<Tom  Thumb." 
But  though  they  often  interrupted  him,  yet  did  our  little 
man  not  lose  courage  ;  insomuch  that  with  often  beginning 
his  story  he  at  last  forced  them  to  hear  him  out ;  which 
however  they  did  not  repent,  because  the  tale  proved  to  be 
a  good  one,  and  caused  them  to  alter  the  ill-opinion  they 
had  of  all  that  came  from  Ragotin,  for  so  was  our  Jack-in- 


THE   STROLLING  PLAYERS  17 

the-Box  called.  You  will  find  the  said  story  in  the  follow- 
ing chapter,  not  such  as  Ragotin  told  it,  but  such  as  I  had 
it  from  one  of  the  hearers.  Therefore  you  must  know  that 
it  is  not  Ragotin  now  speaks,  but  myself. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  INVISIBLE  MISTRESS 

Don  Carlos  of  Arragon  was  a  young  gentleman  of  the 
family  that  bore  that  name.  He  performed  wonders 
at  the  public  games,  which  the  viceroy  of  Naples  en- 
tertained the  people  with,  upon  the  marriage  of  Philip  the 
second,  third,  or  fourth,  for  I  have  forgot  whether.  The 
next  day,  after  a  running  at  the  ring,  where  he  bore  away 
the  prize,  the  viceroy  gave  liberty  to  the  ladies  to  go  about 
the  city  in  disguise,  and  to  wear  masks  after  the  French 
mode,  for  the  conveniency  of  strangers,  whom  the  public 
rejoicings  had  invited  thither.  Upon  that  very  day  Don 
Carlos  put  on  his  finest  clothes,  and  with  many  other  con- 
querors of  hearts  repaired  to  the  church  of  gallantry. 
Churches  are  profaned  in  these  countries  as  well  as  in 
ours ;  and  the  house  of  God  serves  for  an  assemblee  to  the 
beaux  and  coquets,  to  the  eternal  shame  of  those  who  have 
the  cursed  ambition  of  drawing  customers  from  other 
churches  to  their  own.  These  abuses  ought  to  be  re- 
formed, and  there  should  be  persons  appointed  to  turn 
beaux  and  coquets  out  of  churches,  as  well  as  to  drive 
away  dogs  and  bitches.  I  may  be  asked,  what  makes  me 
concern  myself  about  this?  Truly  you  will  see  more  anon. 
However,  let  the  fool  who  is  offended  at  it  be  satisfied,  that 
all  men  of  this  world  are  fools  as  well  as  liars,  some  more, 
some  less ;  and  I  myself  am  perhaps  a  greater  f  doI  than  the 
rest,  though  I  have  more  frankness  in  owning  it :  and 
moreover  my  book  being  but  a  heap  of  follies,  I  hope 
every  fool  will  find  his  own  character  in  it,  unless  he  be 
blinded  by  self-love.  To  return  to  my  story.  Don  Carlos 
being  in  a  church,  with  several  other  Italian  and  Spanish 
gentlemen,  priding  themselves  in  their  fine  feathers  like 
proud  peacocks   three  ladies  in  masks  accosted  him  amid  all 


i 8  SCARRON 

these  fierce  and  gay  Cupids,  one  of  whom  spoke  to  him  thus, 
or  to  the  same  effect :  <(  Signior  Don  Carlos,  there  is  a  lady  in 
this  city  to  whom  you  are  very  much  obliged,  for  at  all 
the  jousts  and  tournaments  her  wishes  went  still  along  with 
you  in  those  exercises  wherein  you  carried  the  prize. w 
"What  I  find  most  advantageous  in  this  you  tell  me," 
answered  Don  Carlos,  <(is  to  have  it  from  the  mouth  of  a 
lady  who  seems  to  be  a  person  of  merit ;  yet  had  I  so 
much  as  hoped  that  any  of  the  fair  sex  had  been  on  my 
side,  I  would  have  taken  more  care  to  deserve  her  appro- 
bation. *  The  unknown  lady  replied  he  had  given  all  the 
proofs  imaginable  of  his  being  a  most  dexterous  and  accom- 
plished gentleman,  and  that  by  his  black  and  white  liveries 
he  had  shown  he  was  not  in  love.  <(  I  never  was  well 
acquainted  with  the  meaning  of  colors, *  answered  Don 
Carlos;  "but  this  I  know,  that  if  I  am  not  in  love  it  is 
not  so  much  on  account  of  my  being  indifferent,  as  because 
I  am  sensible  I  do  not  deserve  to  be  beloved."  They  said 
to  one  another  a  thousand  fine  things  more  which  I  shall 
not  relate,  because  I  know  nothing  of  them,  and  would  be 
loath  to  compose  fictions,  lest  I  should  wrong  Don  Carlos 
and  the  unknown  lady,  who  had  a  great  deal  more  wit 
than  I  can  pretend  to,  as  I  was  lately  informed  by  a  young 
Neapolitan  who  knew  them  both.  In  short,  the  lady  in 
the  mask  declared  to  Don  Carlos  that  it  was  she  who  had 
an  inclination  for  him.  He  desired  to  see  her  face,  which 
she  refused,  and  told  him  that  he  must  not  expect  it  yet ; 
that  she  would  look  for  a  more  proper  opportunity;  and 
that,  to  let  him  know  she  feared  not  to  trust  herself  alone 
with  him,  she  would  gi/e  him  a  token.  At  these  words 
she  pulled  off  her  glove,  and  having  showed  the  Spaniard  the 
finest  hand  in  the  world,  presented  him  with  a  ring;  which 
he  received  with  so  great  a  surprise  at  the  adventure,  that 
he  almost  forgot  to  make  a  bow  and  thank  her  upon  her 
going  from  him.  The  other  gentlemen,  who  out  of  civilit3r 
had  left  him,  being  come  to  him  again,  he  told  them  what 
had  happened,  and  showed  them  the  ring,  which  was  of 
considerable  value.  Every  one  spoke  his  thoughts  upon 
this  adventure  ;  and  Don  Carlos  was  upon  this  as  deep  in 
love  with  the  unknown  lady  as  if  he  had  seen  her  face,  so 


THE    STROLLING   PLAYERS  19 

great  is  the  power  of  wit  on  those  who  have  their  share  of 
it.  He  was  eight  long  days  without  hearing  from  this 
lady  ;  but  whether  or  no  he  was  uneasy  at  it  I  could  never 
be  well  informed.  In  the  meantime  he  went  every  day  to 
divert  himself  at  the  house  of  a  captain  of  foot,  where 
several  men  of  qualit3T  met  to  play.  One  night  having  not 
been  at  play,  and  going  home  sooner  than  ordinary,  he  was 
called  by  his  name  out  of  a  parlor  in  a  great  house.  He 
went  near  the  window,  which  was  latticed,  and  knew  by 
the  voice  that  called  him  that  it  was  his  invisible  mistress, 
who  said  to  him,  "  Come  near,  Don  Carlos  ;  I  expect  you 
here  to  decide  our  controversy. 8  "You  are  but  a  bragga- 
docio, *  said  Don  Carlos ;  "  you  challenge  with  insolence, 
and  yet  hide  yourself  for  eight  days  together,  and  then, 
alas,  appear  only  through  a  lattice  window. 8  <(  We  shall 
see  one  another  nearer  in  time, B  answered  she.  <(  It  is  not 
for  want  of  courage  I  have  delayed  being  with  you  all  this 
while,  but  I  had  a  mind  to  know  you  better  before  I  dis- 
covered myself.  You  know  that  in  duels  the  com- 
batants ought  to  fight  with  arms  alike.  Now  if  your 
heart  be  not  as  free  as  mine,  you  would  fight 
with  advantage,  and  therefore  I  have  made  inquiries  after 
you.8  <(And  what  information  have  you  got,8  answered 
Don  Carlos.  <(That  we  are  much  upon  the  square,  *  re- 
turned the  invisible  lady.  "But,8  said  Don  Carlos,  "there's 
yet  a  great  inequality  betwixt  us;  for,8  added  he,  "you  both 
see  and  know  who  I  am,  whereas  I  neither  see  nor  know 
who  you  are.  Now  consider,  pray,  what  I  can  judge  of 
your  concealing  yourself,  since  people  seldom  do  so  when 
they  have  a  good  design.  It  is  an  easy  matter  to  impose 
at  first  upon  a  man  that  mistrusts  nothing,  but  he  is  not 
to  be  cheated  twice  ;  if  you  make  use  of  me  only  to  give  an- 
other jealousy,  I  must  freely  tell  you  that  I  am  the  most  unfit 
person  for  it  in  the  world,  and  that  I  am  good  for  nothing 
else  besides  loving  you.8  "Have  you  done  with  your  rash 
suspicions  ?  8  said  the  invisible  lady.  "  You  may  call  them 
rash  if  you  please,8  replied  Don  Carlos;  "however,  they  are 
not  really  so.8  "I  would  have  you  to  know,8  said  she,  "I 
am  sincere  ;  you  will  find  me  such  in  all  our  intercourse  ; 
and  I  expect  you  should  be  so  too.8     "That's   but   reason- 


20  SCARRON 

able,"  answered  Don  Carlos;  <(  but  it  is  just  likewise  that  I 
should  see  you,  and  know  who  you  are.  *  *  You  shall  be 
satisfied  in  that  ere  it  be  long, "  said  the  invisible  lady ; 
(<  and  in  the  meantime  hope  with  patience ;  for  that's  the 
only  way  for  you  to  obtain  what  you  expect  from  me. 
Now,  that  you  may  justify  your  love  to  your  discretion,  I 
am  willing  to  let  you  know  that  my  birth  is  not  inferior  to 
yours ;  that  I  have  a  fortune  sufficient  to  make  you  live 
with  as  great  magnificence  as  any  prince  in  the  kingdom  ; 
that  I  am  rather  handsome  than  ill-favored ;  and  as  for 
wit,  you  have  too  much  of  that  yourself  not  to  discover 
whether  I  have  any  or  no.*  She  had  no  sooner  made  an 
end  of  her  speech  but  she  withdrew,  leaving  Don  Carlos 
with  his  mouth  open,  ready  to  answer  her ;  so  very  much 
in  love  with  a  person  he  never  saw,  and  so  perplexed  about 
this  odd  way  of  proceeding,  which  might  prove  at  last  a 
cheat,  that  he  stood  on  the  same  place  for  above  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  not  knowing  what  to  think  of  this  extraordinary 
adventure.  He  was  not  ignorant  that  there  were  a  great 
many  princesses  and  ladies  of  quality  in  Naples ;  but  knew 
likewise  that  there  were  abundance  of  greedy  courtesans  in 
that  city,  eager  after  strangers,  great  jilts,  and  the  more 
dangerous  as  they  were  handsome.  I  cannot  positively  tell 
whether  he  had  supped  at  this  time  or  whether  he  went  to 
bed  without  a  supper. 

Neither  do  I  care  to  imitate  the  writers  of  romances,  who 
mark  with  great  exactness  all  the  hours  of  the  day,  and 
make  their  heroes  rise  betimes,  relate  their  adventures  by 
dinner-time,  eat  but  little  at  dinner,  then  resume  the  story 
after  dinner,  or  retire  into  the  thickest  part  of  a  wood, 
in  order  to  entertain  their  own  selves,  unless  when  they 
have  something  to  say  to  the  rocks  and  trees.  At  supper- 
time  they  make  them  repair  at  the  usual  hour  to  the 
place  where  they  diet ;  there  they  sigh  and  look  pensive, 
instead  of  eating ;  and  thence  go  to  build  castles  in  the 
air  on  some  terrace-walk  that  looks  toward  the  sea,  while 
the  trusty  squire  reveals  that  his  master  is  such  a  one,  son 
to  such  a  king ;  that  he  is  the  best  prince  alive,  and 
though  he  be  still  the  handsomest  of  all  mortals,  that  he 
was   quite    another    man    before    love    had    disfigured    him. 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  21 

To  return  to  my  story,  Don  Carlos  repaired  the  next  day  to 
his  post,  where  the  invisible  lady  waited  his  coming.  She 
asked  him  if  he  had  not  been  much  perplexed  about  their 
last  conversation,  and  if  he  had  not  doubted  the  truth  of 
what  she  told  him.  Don  Carlos,  without  answering  her 
question,  desired  her  to  tell  him  what  danger  she  feared  in 
discovering  herself,  since  they  were  upon  even  terms  ;  and 
that  the  end  of  their  amours  being  honorable,  it  would 
have  the  approbation  of  everybody.  (<The  danger  is  very 
great,  and  you  will  have  it  in  time,®  said  the  invisible  lady. 
<(  Once  more,  be  satisfied  that  I  am  true,  and  that  in  the 
account  I  gave  you  of  myself  I  was  rather  modest  than 
vain.  *  Don  Carlos  did  not  press  her  any  farther ;  their  con- 
versation, which  continued  some  time  longer,  increased  the 
mutual  love  they  had  for  each  other ;  and  so  they  parted 
with  promises  to  meet  every  day  at  the  appointed  hour 
and  place.  The  next  day  after  there  was  a  great  ball  at 
the  viceroy's,  where  Don  Carlos  hoped  to  know  his 
invisible  charmer.  In  the  meantime,  he  endeavored  to 
learn  at  whose  house  she  gave  him  those  favorable  audi- 
ences, and  was  told  by  the  neighbors  that  it  belonged  to 
an  old  lady,  widow  to  a  Spanish  captain,  who  had  neither 
daughters  nor  nieces,  and  lived  very  retired.  He  desired 
to  wait  on  her,  but  she  sent  him  word  that  since  her 
husband  died  she  admitted  of  no  visits,  which  still  per- 
plexed him  more  and  more.  Don  Carlos  went  in  the  even- 
ing to  the  viceroy's,  where  you  may  imagine  there  was  a 
very  fine  and  numerous  assembly,  and  nicely  observed  all 
the  ladies  in  hopes  to  find  out  his  unknown  mistress. 
He  engaged  in  conversation  with  several,  but  was  disap- 
pointed in  his  search.  At  last  he  kept  close  to  the 
daughter  of  a  marquis  of  I  know  not  what  marquisate, 
for  it  was  the  most  difficult  thing  to  know  in  the  world, 
especially  at  that  juncture,  when  everybody  set  up  for  that 
quality.  She  was  young  and  handsome,  and  had  a  voice 
not  unlike  that  of  the  person  he  looked  after.  But  at  the 
long  run,  he  found  such  great  disproportion  betwixt  her 
wit  and  that  of  his  invisible,  that  he  was  sorry  that  in 
so  little  time  he  had  made  such  progress  with  this  fine 
lady,  that,  without  any  flattery  to  himself,  he  had  reason  to 


22  SCARRON 

believe  she  did  not  hate  him.  They  danced  several  times 
together,  and  the  ball  being  over,  to  the  great  satisfaction 
of  Don  Carlos  he  took  his  leave  of  his  captive,  whom  he 
left  full  of  pride  for  having  had  to  herself  in  so  fine  an 
assembly  a  cavalier  who  was  envied  by  all  the  men  and 
esteemed  by  all  the  women.  As  soon  as  he  came  out  of 
the  ball  he  went  in  great  haste  to  his  house,  and  from 
thence  to  the  fatal  grate,  which  was  not  far  off.  His  lady, 
who  was  there  already,  asked  him  news  of  the  ball, 
although  she  had  been  there  herself.  He  told  her  very 
ingenuously  that  he  had  danced  with  a  very  beautiful  per- 
son, and  entertained  her  all  the  time  the  ball  lasted.  She 
asked  him  several  questions  in  relation  to  her,  which 
discovered  her  jealousy.  As  for  Don  Carlos,  he  let  her 
understand  that  he  began  to  suspect  her  quality  by  reason 
she  had  not  been  at  the  ball.  She  having  taken  notice  of 
it,  used  all  the  charms  of  her  wit  to  remove  his  suspicions, 
and  favored  him  as  far  as  was  possible  in  a  conversation 
that  passed  with  a  grate  between  ;  adding  withal,  that  in  a 
short  time  she  would  become  visible.  Hereupon  they 
parted,  Don  Carlos  very  much  in  doubt  whether  he  ought 
to  believe  her,  and  she  somewhat  jealous  of  the  fine  person 
he  had  entertained  during  the  ball.  The  next  day  Don 
Carlos  going  to  hear  mass  at  a  certain  church,  the  name  of 
which  I  have  forgot,  offered  holy  water  to  two  veiled  ladies 
who  went  to  take  some  at  the  same  time  with  him.  She 
who  appeared  in  the  better  clothes  of  the  two  told  him  she 
never  accepted  of  any  civility  from  one  with  whom  she 
had  a  quarrel  to  decide.  (<  If  you  are  not  too  much  in  haste,  * 
answered  Don  Carlos,  (<  you  may  have  satisfaction  in  that 
this  very  moment. w  (<  Well,"  said  the  unknown  lady,  <(  follow 
me  then  into  the  next  chapel. •  She  led  the  way,  and  Don 
Carlos  followed,  very  much  in  doubt  whether  she  was  his 
unknown  mistress  or  not  ;  for  though  her  shape  was  the 
same,  yet  he  found  some  difference  between  their  voices, 
this  new  lady  speaking  somewhat  thick.  This  is  the  sub- 
stance of  what  she  told  him  after  she  had  shut  herself  up 
with  him  in  the  chapel.  <(A11  the  city  of  Naples,  Signior 
Don  Carlos,  talks  of  the  high  reputation  you  have  gained 
during  the  little  time  you  have  been   here ;    and  everybody 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  23 

looks  upon  you  as  the  most  accomplished  gentleman 
in  the  world.  The  only  thing  that  people  wonder  at  is 
your  not  taking  notice  that  there  are  in  this  city  some 
ladies  of  quality  and  merit  who  have  a  particular  esteem 
for  you  ;  they  have  discovered  it  to  you  as  far  as  decency 
would  allow,  and  though  it  is  their  eager  desires  to  make 
you  sensible  of  it,  yet  they  had  rather  you  had  not  taken 
notice  of  it  through  insensibility,  than  that  you  should 
have  despised  their  favors  through  indifference.  Among 
the  rest,  there's  one  of  my  acquaintance  who  has  so  much 
value  for  you,  as  to  hazard  her  own  reputation  by  telling 
you  that  your  night  adventures  are  discovered ;  that  you 
rashly  engage  in  an  amour  with  one  you  do  not  know,  and 
that  since  your  mistress  conceals  herself,  she  must  either 
be  ashamed  of  her  lover  or  conscious  of  not  deserving  to  be 
beloved  herself.  I  question  not  but  the  object  of  your  con- 
templative love  is  a  lady  of  great  quality  and  wit,  and  that 
your  fancy  has  framed  such  a  mistress  as  is  worthy  of  ado- 
ration upon  all  accounts.  But,  Signior  Don  Carlos,  believe 
not  your  imagination  at  the  expense  of  your  judgment ; 
trust  not  a  person  who  conceals  herself,  and  engage  no  more 
in  these  night  conversations.  But  why  should  I  disguise 
myself  any  longer  ?  I  myself  am  jealous  of  this  phantom  of 
yours.  I  cannot  bear  you  should  speak  with  her  ;  and  since 
I  have  declared  my  mind  so  far,  I  will  so  thwart  all  her 
designs,  that  I  do  not  much  question  but  I  shall  carry  away 
the  prize,  to  which  I  have  as  much  right  as  she,  since  I 
am  not  inferior  to  her  either  in  beauty,  riches,  quality,  or 
anything  else  that  can  bespeak  love.  If  you  are  wise,  you 
will  make  use  of  this  my  advice. w  When  she  had  spoke 
these  last  words  she  went  away  without  giving  Don  Carlos 
time  to  answer  her.  He  was  going  to  follow  her,  but  met 
at  the  church  gate  a  man  of  quality,  who  engaged  him  in 
a  tedious  conversation,  from  which  he  could  not  rid  him- 
self. He  reflected  the  remainder  of  the  day  upon  this  ad- 
venture, and  suspected  at  first  the  lady  at  the  ball  to  be 
the  veiled  person  that  had  appeared  to  him.  But  then  call- 
ing to  mind  that  she  had  showed  abundance  more  wit  than 
he  had  found  in  this,  he  was  at  a  loss  what  to  think,  and 
wished  almost  not  to  have  been  engaged  with  his  unknown  mis- 


i\  SCARRON 

tress,  that  he  might  give  himself  entirely  up  to  this.  But 
then  again,  considering  that  he  knew  her  no  better  than 
his  invisible,  whose  wit  had  charmed  him  in  all  the 
conversations  he  had  had  with  her,  he  firmly  resolved  to  be 
constant  to  his  first  choice,  without  minding  in  the  least 
the  threats  of  the  last  lady  ;  for  he  was  not  to  be  wrought 
upon  by  fear  or  compulsion.  That  very  night  he  failed  not 
to  return  to  the  grated  window  at  the  usual  hour,  where  in 
the  height  of  his  conversation  with  his  mistress  he  was  seized 
by  four  strong  men  in  masks,  who,  having  disarmed  him, 
hurried  him  by  force  into  a  coach  that  waited  for  them  at 
the  end  of  the  street.  I  leave  the  reader  to  think  how 
many  abusive  names  he  gave  those  men  in  disguise,  and 
how  he  reproached  them  for  attacking  him  so  to  disadvan- 
tage. Nay,  he  endeavored  to  win  them  by  promises,  but 
instead  of  persuading  them  he  only  made  them  to  take  more 
care  of  him,  and  put  himself  out  of  hope  of  be- 
ing able  to  show  either  his  strength  or  courage.  In  the 
meantime  the  coach  and  six  horses  drove  on  at  full  trot, 
and  having  got  out  of  the  city,  after  an  hour's  traveling, 
came  into  a  great  yard,  the  gate  of  which  was  kept  open 
to  receive  it.  The  four  maskers  alighted  with  Don  Carlos 
holding  him  under  the  arms  like  an  ambassador  introduced 
to  salute  the  grand  signior.  He  was  carried  up  one  pair 
of  stairs  in  the  same  manner,  where  two  gentlewomen  in 
masks  came  to  receive  him  at  the  door  of  a  large  room, 
each  with  a  candlestick  in  her  hand,  when  the  four  men  in  dis- 
guise took  their  leave  of  him  with  a  profound  reverence. 
It  is  probable  they  left  him  neither  sword  nor  pistol,  and 
that  he  did  not  forget  to  thank  them  for  their  extraordi- 
nary care  of  his  person  ;  and  jret  perhaps  he  never  thought 
of  it ;  not  but  that  he  was  a  man  of  good  breeding,  but 
upon  a  surprise  a  slip  in  point  of  civility  ought  to  be 
forgiven.  Neither  will  I  tell  you  whether  the  candlesticks 
the  gentlewomen  had  in  their  hands  were  silver,  or  only 
silver-gilt  and  engraven.  As  for  the  room,  it  was  the  most 
magnificent  in  the  world,  and  if  you  would  know  it  as  well 
furnished  as  some  apartments  in  our  romances ;  namely  the 
ship  of  Zelman  in  <(  Polexander w  the  palace  of  Ibra- 
him in   the  "Illustrious   Bassa,w    or    the  room   wherein    the 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  25 

king  of  Assyria  received  Mandoan  in  "Cyrus,"  which 
together  with  the  others  I  named  before,  is  certainly 
a  book  that  has  the  best  furniture  in  the  world. 
Now  imagine  what  surprise  our  Spaniard  was  in  to  find 
himself  in  this  stately  apartment  with  two  speechless  gen- 
tlewomen in  masks,  who  having  conducted  him  into  an- 
other chamber,  still  better  furnished  than  the  great  room, 
left  him  there  all  alone.  Had  he  been  of  Don  Quixote's 
humor,  he  would  have  found  sufficient  matter  to  please  his 
fancy,  and  imagined  himself  to  be  no  less  than  Bsplandian 
or  Amadis.  But  our  Spaniard  was  no  more  concerned  than 
if  he  had  been  in  his  inn,  save  only  that  he  had  a  great 
regret  for  his  invisible  lady ;  and  as  he  kept  his  thoughts 
continually  employed  upon  her,  he  found  that  chamber 
more  melancholy  than  a  prison,  which  never  looks  pleasant 
but  on  the  outside.  He  was  easily  persuaded  that  these 
who  had  provided  him  so  fair  a  lodging  were  none  of  his 
enemies ;  and  doubted  not  but  the  lady  who  spoke  to  him 
the  day  before  in  the  church  was  the  conjurer  that  had 
raised  all  these  enchantments.  He  admired  with  himself 
the  fancies  of  women,  and  how  soon  they  put  their  designs 
in  execution  •  as  for  his  part,  he  resolved  to  wait  patiently 
the  end  of  this  adventure,  and  be  faithful  to  his  invisible 
mistress  in  spite  of  all  the  threats  and  promises  he  might 
receive  in  this  new  lodging.  A  little  while  after  several 
servants  in  masks,  and  in  very  good  clothes,  came  to  lay 
the  cloth,  and  then  served  up  supper.  Everything  belong- 
ing to  it  was  magnificent ;  music  and  perfumes  were  not 
forgotten  ;  and  Don  Carlos  not  only  gratified  his  smelling 
and  hearing,  but  his  taste  also ;  for  he  eat  and  drank 
more  than  I  thought  a  man  in  his  condition  could  have 
done.  But  what's  impossible  to  so  great  a  courage !  I 
forgot  to  tell  you  that  he  washed  his  mouth,  for  I  am  in- 
formed he  took  great  care  of  his  teeth.  The  music  played 
a  while  after  supper,  but  all  being  withdrawn,  Don  Carlos 
fetched  many  a  turn  about  the  room,  reflecting  on  all  these 
enchantments,  or  perhaps  on  something  else.  Then  came 
in  two  gentlewomen  and  a  dwarf  all  in  masks,  who,  with- 
out asking  him  whether  he  had  a  mind  to  go  to  bed  or 
not.  spread    a   magnificent    toilet    in   order    to  undress  him. 


26  SCARRON 

He  complied  with  them  in  everything.  The  gentlewomen 
turned  down  the  bed-clothes  and  then  withdrew.  The 
dwarf  pulled  off  his  shoes,  stockings,  or  boots,  and  then 
his  other  clothes ;  all  which  being  done  without  exchang- 
ing a  word,  Don  Carlos  went  to  bed  and  slept  pretty  well 
for  a  man  in  love.  At  break  of  day  he  was  waked  by  the 
singing  of  birds  that  fluttered  about  in  an  aviary ;  the 
dwarf  came  to  wait  upon  him,  and  brought  him  the  finest 
linen  in  the  world,  and  the  best  washed  and  perfumed. 
If  you  think  fit,  I  shall  not  mention  what  he  did  till 
dinner  (which  was  at  least  as  good  as  his  supper  had 
been),  but  pass  to  the  first  breaking  of  that  profound 
silence  which  had  been  observed  to  that  very  hour.  A 
gentlewoman  in  a  mask  began  to  speak  by  asking  him  if 
he  would  be  pleased  to  see  the  mistress  of  that  enchanted 
palace.  Don  Carlos  said  she  should  be  welcome.  And  a 
little  while  after  she  came  in,  attended  by  four  gentle- 
women very  richly  dressed. 

wSuch  were  not  Cythera's  charms, 

When  drest  in  gay  and  loose  attire, 
She  flew  to  a  new  lover's  arms, 
Upon  the  wings  of  soft  desire.® 

Never  had  our  Spaniard  seen  a  person  of  more  majes- 
tic mien  than  this  unknown  Urganda.  He  was  so  trans- 
ported and  surprised  at  the  same  time,  that  he  stumbled 
at  every  bow  and  step  he  made,  as  he  led  her  into  the 
next  room,  whither  she  directed  him. 

All  the  fine  things  he  had  seen  in  the  other  rooms  I 
mentioned  before  were  nothing  in  comparison  to  what  he 
found  in  this  last,  which  still  received  a  new  brightness 
from  the  lady  in  a  mask.  They  walked  on  the  finest  foot- 
carpet  that  ever  was  seen  since  foot-carpets  have  been  in 
fashion.  There  the  Spaniard  was  placed  in  an  arm-chair 
in  spite  of  himself,  and  the  lady  sitting  by  herself,  on  I 
know  not  how  many  fine  cushions  over  against  him,  she 
ravished  his  ears  with  a  voice  as  sweet  as  a  harpsichord, 
speaking  to  him  to  this  effect:  (<  I  doubt  not,  Signior  Don 
Carlos,  but  you  are  much  surprised  at  what  has  happened 
to  you  in  my  house  since   yesterday  ;    but  if  all  that  is  not 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  27 

able  to  move  you,  yet  by  it  you  may  see  I  am  as  good  as 
my  word ;  and  from  what  I  have  done,  you  may  guess 
what  I  am  able  to  do.  Perhaps  my  rival,  both  by  her 
artifice  and  the  advantage  she  has  of  having  attacked  you 
first,  has  made  herself  absolute  mistress  of  that  heart  which 
I  nevertheless  pretend  to  dispute  my  right  to  with  her ; 
but  a  woman  is  not  to  be  discouraged  by  the  first  disap- 
pointment ;  and  if  my  fortune,  which  is  not  to  be  despised, 
with  all  that  goes  along  with  my  person,  cannot  persuade 
you  to  love  me,  yet  shall  I  have  the  satisfaction  of  not 
concealing  myself  out  of  shame  or  deceit,  and  choose  to  be 
despised  through  my  defects,  rather  than  be  beloved 
through  my  artifice.  *  As  she  spoke  these  last  words  she 
pulled  off  her  mask,  and  showed  Don  Carlos  the  heavens 
with  all  their  glories,  or  if  you  please,  a  heavenly  minia- 
ture :  the  finest  head  in  the  world,  supported  by  the  best 
shape  he  ever  admired  before  ;  in  short,  a  person  all  over 
divine.  By  the  freshness  of  her  complexion  one  would  not 
have  thought  her  to  have  been  above  sixteen  years  of  age  ; 
but  by  a  certain  free  and  majestic  air,  which  young  per- 
sons generally  want,  she  appeared  to  be  near  twenty.  Don 
Carlos  paused  a  while  before  he  answered  her,  being  almost 
angry  with  his  invisible  lady,  who  hindered  him  from  sur- 
rendering himself  entirely  to  the  finest  person  he  ever  saw, 
and  dubious  what  he  should  say  or  do.  At  last,  after  an 
inward  conflict,  which  lasted  so  long  as  to  make  the  mis- 
tress of  the  enchanted  palace  uneasy,  he  took  a  firm  reso- 
lution not  to  conceal  from  her  his  inmost  thoughts  ;  which, 
without  any  manner  of  question,  was  the  best  thing  he 
ever  did  in  his  life.  This  is  the  answer  he  gave  her,  which 
some  have  found  a  little  too  blunt.  (<  Madam,  I  could  not 
but  own  myself  extremely  happy  in  your  esteem,  if  my 
stars  would  but  suffer  me  to  love  you.  I  see  well  enough 
that  I  leave  the  finest  person  in  the  universe  for  one  who 
perhaps  is  only  such  in  my  fancy ;  but,  madam,  would 
you  think  me  worth  your  affection  if  you  found  me  capa- 
ble of  infidelity?  and  how  can  I  be  faithful  if  I  love  you? 
Therefore,  madam,  pity  me,  but  blame  me  not ;  or  rather 
let  us  pity  each  other  and  complain  both  ;  you  of  not  ob- 
taining what  you  desire,  and  I  of  not  seeing  what  I  love.B 


28  SCARRON 

He  uttered  these  words  with  such  a  melancholy  air  that 
the  lady  might  easily  perceive  he  spoke  his  true  senti- 
ments. She  used  all  the  arguments  she  could  think  of  to 
persuade  him  to  alter  his  mind,  but  he  was  deaf  to  her 
prayers  and  unconcerned  at  her  tears.  She  renewed  the 
attack  several  times,  but  met  still  with  a  stout  resistance. 
At  last    she   began    to   revile    and   reproach    him,  and   told 

him, 

®  What  rage  and  jealousy  suggest, 
When  they  possess  a  lovesick  breast," 

and  then  she  left  him,  not  to  pick  straws,  but  to  curse  a 
hundred  times  his  misfortune,  which  proceeded  only  from 
being  too  happy.  A  gentlewoman  came  a  little  while  after 
to  acquaint  him  that  he  had  the  liberty  to  walk  in  the 
garden.  He  traversed  all  these  fine  apartments  without 
meeting  with  anybody,  till  he  came  to  the  staircase,  at  the 
foot  of  which  he  saw  ten  men  in  masks,  who  kept  the 
door,  armed  with  partisans  and  carbines.  As  he  was  cross- 
ing the  court  to  go  into  the  garden,  one  of  the  gentlemen 
of  the  guard  accosted  him  without  looking  him  in  the  face, 
and  told  him,  as  though  he  feared  to  be  overheard,  that 
an  old  gentleman  had  trusted  him  with  a  letter  which  he 
had  promised  to  deliver  into  his  own  hands,  though  his 
life  must  answer  for  it  if  he  should  be  discovered  ;  but 
that  a  present  of  twenty  pistoles,  and  a  promise  of  as  many 
more,  made  him  to  run  all  hazards.  Don  Carlos  promised 
him  secrecy,  and  went  straight  into  the  garden,  where  he 
read  the  letter  which  was  as  follows : 

<(You  may  judge  what  pains  I  have  felt  since  I  lost  you, 
by  those  you  ought  to  feel  yourself,  if  you  love  me  as 
much  as  I  do  you.  However,  my  uneasiness  is  something 
abated  by  being  informed  of  the  place  where  you  are.  It 
is  the  Princess  Porcia  who  stole  you  away ;  she  is  a 
woman  that  sticks  at  nothing  to  please  herself,  and  you 
are  not  the  first  Rinaldo  of  that  dangerous  Armida.  But  I 
will  soon  break  all  her  enchantments  and  disengage  you 
from  her  arms,  to  receive  you  into  mine,  which  favor  you 
will  deserve,  if  you  are  as  constant  as  I  wish  you  to  be. 

(<The  Invisible  L,ady.w 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  29 

Don  Carlos  was  so  transported  with  joy  to  receive  this 
news  from  his  lady,  with  whom  he  was  really  in  love,  that 
he  kissed  the  letter  a  hundred  times  over,  and  came  back 
to  the  garden  door  to  recompense  the  messenger  with  a 
fine  diamond  ring  he  had  on  his  finger.  He  walked  a  little 
longer  in  the  garden,  still  wondering  at  the  Princess  Por- 
cia,  whom,  he  often  heard  people  report  to  be  a  young 
rich  lady  of  the  best  family  in  the  kingdom ;  but  as  he 
was  a  person  of  strict  virtue,  he  conceived  such  an  aver- 
sion for  her,  that  he  resolved  to  break  out  of  his  prison 
even  at  the  hazard  of  his  life.  As  he  came  out  of  the 
garden,  he  met  a  gentlewoman  unmasked  (for  from  that 
time  forward  everybody  went  barefaced  in  the  palace),  who 
came  to  ask  if  he  would  be  pleased  to  have  her  mistress 
eat  with  him  ;  and  I  leave  you  to  think  whether  he 
answered,  she  should  be  welcome.  A  little  while  after 
they  served  up  supper,  or  dinner  for  I  have  forgot  which 
of  the  two  it  ought  to  have  been.  Porcia  appeared  more 
bright  and  handsome,  I  said  just  now,  than  Venus  Citherea, 
and  it  will  not  be  amiss  if,  for  variety  sake,  I  now  say, 
than  an  angel :  she  was  charming  in  every  respect,  and 
during  the  time  they  were  at  table  the  Spaniard  discovered 
so  much  wit  in  her,  that  he  was  in  a  manner  sorry  to  find 
so  many  excellent  qualities  so  ill-bestowed  on  a  person  of 
so  high  a  degree.  He  did  all  he  could  to  appear  in 
good  humor  and  force  a  pleasing  countenance,  although 
he  was  continually  thinking  upon  his  unknown  mistress, 
and  burned  with  impatience  to  return  to  the  lattice-window. 
As  soon  as  the  table  was  cleared  they  were  left  by 
themselves,  and  because  Don  Carlos  spoke  not  a  word, 
either  out  of  respect  or  only  to  oblige  the  lady  to 
speak  first,  she  broke  silence  in  these  words :  <(  I  know  not 
whether  I  ought  to  hope  something  from  the  gayety  I  fancy 
I  have  discovered  in  your  face ;  and  whether  mine,  which 
you  have  seen  already,  does  seem  handsome  enough  to  make 
you  doubt  whether  that  of  your  invisible  mistress  has  more 
charms  to  captivate  3'our  heart.  I  do  not  conceal  what  I 
designed  to  present  you  with,  because  I  would  not  have 
you  repent  the  accepting  my  present ;  and  though  a  person 
who  has  been  used  to  be  instructed  by  others  be  apt  to  be 


30  SCARRON 

offended  at  a  denial,  yet  will  I  forgive  you,  provided  you 
repair  your  past  offense  by  giving  me  what  I  have  more 
right  to  than  your  invisible :  therefore  tell  me  your  last 
resolution,  that  if  in  case  it  be  not  in  my  behalf,  I  may  at 
least  find  out  new  reasons  strong  enough  to  combat  those 
which  I  think  I  had  to  love  you.w  Don  Carlos  thought  she 
would  have  gone  on  with  her  speech  ;  but  observing  she 
spoke  no  more,  and  that  with  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground 
she  expected  her  doom  from  his  mouth,  he  resumed  his 
former  resolution  of  telling  her  frankly  that  he  could  never 
be  hers,  which  he  did  in  these  words.  <(  Madam,  before  I 
answer  what  you  would  know  of  me,  I  must  desire  you, 
that  with  the  same  frankness  you  expect  from  me,  you 
would  be  pleased  to  tell  me  your  sentiments  about  what  I 
am  going  to  propose  to  you.  Suppose,"  added  he,  <(  you 
had  engaged  a  man  to  love  you,  and  that  by  all  the  favors 
a  lady  can  grant  without  wronging  her  virtue  you  had 
obliged  him  to  swear  an  inviolable  fidelity  ;  would  you  not 
account  him  the  basest  and  most  treacherous  of  mankind 
if  he  should  fail  in  his  promise?  and  were  I  not  that  villain, 
and  that  traitor,  if  I  should  leave  for  you  a  person  who  has 
reason  to  think  I  love  her  ?  •  He  was  going  to  frame  abun- 
dance of  logical  arguments  in  order  to  convince  her  ;  but 
she  did  not  give  him  time,  and  rising  abruptly  from  her 
seat,  told  him  that  she  plainly  saw  the  drift  of  his  dis- 
course ;  that  she  could  not  but  admire  his  constancy,  though 
so  much  opposite  to  her  own  quiet  that  she  would  set  him 
at  liberty,  and  that  she  only  desired  him  to  stay  till  night 
to  go  back  in  the  same  manner  he  came.  While  she  was 
speaking,  she  held  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  as  though 
she  designed  to  conceal  her  tears,  and  afterward  left  the 
Spaniard  a  little  concerned  ;  yet  so  transported  with 
joy  that  he  was  to  be  again  at  liberty,  that  he  had  not 
been  able  to  conceal  it  had  he  been  the  greatest  hyprocrite 
in  the  world  ;  and  I  verily  believe,  that  had  the  lady  taken 
notice  of  it,  she  would  certainly  have  scolded  at  him  for 
it.  I  know  not  whether  it  was  long  before  night  came,  for 
as  I  told  you  before,  I  don't  trouble  myself  about  marking 
the  time  or  hours.  You  must  be  contented  to  know  that 
night  came   at  last,  and   that    he    went   into  a  close  coach, 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  31 

and  was  set  down  at  his  lodgings  after  a  pretty  long  jour- 
ney. As  he  was  the  best  master  in  the  world,  so  his  serv- 
ants were  like  to  die  with  joy  at  the  sight  of  him,  and 
almost  stifled  him  with  their  embraces  ;  but  they  did  not 
enjoy  him  long  ;  for  having  provided  himself  with  arms, 
and  taken  two  of  his  stoutest  men  along  with  him,  he 
presently  went  to  the  grated  window  in  such  great  haste, 
that  those  who  accompanied  him  had  much  ado  to  keep 
pace  with  him.  He  had  no  sooner  given  the  usual  signal 
but  his  invisible  deity  communicated  herself  to  him  ;  when 
they  exchanged  such  soft  and  tender  expressions,  that  I 
cannot  forbear  weeping  whenever  I  think  of  them.  At  last 
the  lady  told  him  she  had  been  lately  affronted  in  that 
house,  and  therefore  had  sent  for  a  coach  in  order  to  leave 
it ;  but  because  it  might  be  a  long  while  a  coming,  she  de- 
sired him  to  send  for  his,  which  might  be  sooner  got 
ready  ;  and  that  she  would  carry  him  to  a  place  where  she 
would  no  longer  conceal  her  face  from  him.  The  Spaniard 
needed  no  farther  entreaty,  but  ran  like  a  madman  to  his 
men,  whom  he  had  left  at  the  end  of  the  street,  and  sent  for 
his  coach  in  all  haste.  The  coach  being  come,  the  invisible 
lady  kept  her  word,  and  went  into  it  with  Don  Carlos. 
She  directed  the  coachman  which  way  he  should  drive,  and 
bid  him  stop  at  a  great  house,  into  the  courtyard  of  which 
the  coach  went  by  the  light  of  several  flambeaus,  which 
were  lighted  at  their  arrival.  The  cavalier  leading  his  lady, 
went  up  stairs  into  a  very  large  room,  where  he  was  a 
little  uneasy  because  she  did  not  pull  off  her  mask.  At 
last  several  gentlewomen  being  come  to  receive  them,  with 
each  a  candlestick  in  their  hands,  the  lady  was  invisible  no 
longer  ;  but  pulling  off  her  mask,  let  Don  Carlos  see  that 
the  lady  at  the  grated  window  and  the  Princess  Porcia 
were  but  one  person.  I  will  not  endeavor  to  describe  the 
pleasant  surprise  of  the  Spaniard.  The  fair  Neapolitan  told 
him  she  had  stolen  him  away  a  second  time  to  know  his 
last  resolution  ;  that  the  lady  at  the  lattice  had  made  over 
to  her  all  her  pretensions,  and  added  a  thousand  expres- 
sions no  less  obliging  than  ingenious.  Don  Carlos  threw 
himself  at  her  feet,  embraced  her  knees,  and  devoured,  as 
one  may  say,  her  hands  with  kisses ;  by  that  means  avoid- 


32  SCARRON 

ing  all  the  impertinence  and  nonsense  which  people  gener- 
ally speak  when  they  are  transported  with  joy.  The 
raptures  of  his  passion  being  over,  he  used  all  his  wit  and 
eloquence  to  extol  the  agreeable  caprice  of  his  mistress, 
and  expressed  himself  so  well  to  her  advantage,  that  he 
confirmed  her  she  was  not  mistaken  in  her  choice.  She 
told  him  she  had  been  unwilling  to  trust  anybody  but  herself 
in  a  thing,  without  which  she  could  never  have  loved  him  ; 
and  that  she  would  never  have  bestowed  herself  upon  a 
man  less  constant  than  himself.  Thereupon  the  Princess 
Porcia's  relations  came  in,  having  had  notice  given  them  of 
her  design.  And  as  they  were  the  chief  men  in  the  king- 
dom, they  easily  obtained  a  dispensation  from  the  arch- 
bishop for  their  marriage.  The  same  night  the  ceremony 
was  performed  by  the  parson  of  the  parish,  who  was  an 
honest  priest  and  a  good  preacher ;  and  so  'twere  needless 
to  ask  whether  he  made  a  fine  exhortation  upon  the  sub- 
ject. It  is  said  they  got  up  late  the  next  day,  which  I 
am  inclined  to  believe.  The  news  was  soon  spread  about, 
at  which  the  viceroy,  a  near  relation  of  Don  Carlos' s  was 
so  overjoyed,  that  the  public  rejoicings  began  anew  in 
Naples,  where  to  this  day  they  talk  of  Don  Carlos  of  Arra- 
gon  and  his  invisible  mistress. 


HOW  RAGOTIN  RECEIVED  A  BLOW  ON  THE  FIN- 
GERS  WITH   A   BUSK 

Ragotin's  story  had  a  general  applause,  and  he  valued 
himself  as  much  upon  it  as  if  it  had  been  his  own  ; 
which  swelling  his  natural  pride,  he  began  to  treat 
the  men  players  with  contempt,  and  afterward  accosting 
the  women,  squeezed  their  hands  without  their  consent, 
and  offered  to  feel  their  breasts  ;  a  piece  of  country  gal- 
lantry which  favors  more  of  the  satyr  than  gentleman. 
Mistress  Star  contented  herself  to  force  her  soft,  fair  hands 
from  his  dirty  rough  clutches  ;  but  Mrs.  Angelica,  her  com- 
panion, gave  him,  withal  smiling,  a  rap  on  the  fingers  with 
her   busk.      He   left   them    abruptly,    without   so    much    as 


THE    STROLLING   PLAYERS  33 

speaking  a  word,  glowing  with  rage  and  confusion,  and  re- 
turned to  the  men's  company,  where  everyone  spoke  as 
fast  as  he  could  without  minding  what  the  rest  said. 
Ragotin  silenced  most  of  them  by  demanding  of  them,  with 
a  superior  voice,  what  they  thought  of  his  novel.  A  young 
man,  whose  name  I  have  forgot,  answered  him  bluntly,  it 
was  no  more  his  than  anybody  else's  in  the  company,  since 
he  had  it  out  of  a  book  ;  whereupon  seeing  one  stick  out 
of  Ragotin's  pocket  he  pulled  it  out,  which  the  little  man 
perceiving,  scratched  his  hands  to  get  it  from  him  ;  but  in 
spite  of  Ragotin  he  put  it  in  another  man's  hands,  from 
whom  Ragotin  endeavored  to  snatch  it,  to  as  little  purpose 
as  before.  The  book  having  got  by  this  time  into  a  third 
man's  hands  after  the  same  manner,  passed  to  five  or  six 
different  hands  more ;  which  Ragotin  however  could  not 
reach,  because  he  was  the  shortest  man  in  the  company. 
At  last,  having  stretched  himself  five  or  six  times  in  vain, 
torn  half  a  dozen  pairs  of  cuffs,  scratched  as  many  hands, 
and  the  book  still  traveling  about  through  the  middle  region 
of  the  chamber,  poor  Ragotin,  who  saw  everybody  laugh 
at  his  expense,  rushed  like  a  madman  upon  the  first  author 
of  his  confusion,  and  dealt  him  several  blows  on  his  belly 
and  thighs,  not  being  able  to  reach  higher.  The  hands  of 
his  adversary,  who  had  the  advantage  of  the  place,  fell  five 
or  six  times  so  perpendicular  and  heavy  on  the  top  of  his 
head,  that  the  crown  of  his  hat  sunk  down  to  his  very 
chin  ;  which  so  shook  the  seat  of  his  reason,  that  the  poor 
little  man  did  not  for  some  time  know  where  he  was.  To 
complete  his  defeat,  his  antagonist  at  parting  gave  him  a 
sound  kick  on  the  head,  which  after  a  very  sudden  retro- 
gradation,  made  him  fall  on  his  breech,  at  the  women 
players'  feet.  Now,  if  possible,  I  would  have  you  to  con- 
ceive the  rage  and  fury  of  a  little  man,  more  proud  than 
all  the  sieurs  in  the  kingdom,  at  a  time  when  he  was  cock- 
a-hoop  about  his  story ;  and  that  too  before  players  to 
whom  he  designed  to  make  love,  as  you  shall  see  anon, 
though  he  was  yet  ignorant  which  of  them  had  the 
greater  title  to  his  heart.  To  speak  the  truth,  his  little 
body  thus  tumbled  on  his  breech,  did  so  lively  represent 
the  fury  of  his  soul  by  the  different  motions  of  his  arms 
i 


34  SCARRON 

and  legs,  that  though  his  face  could  not  be  seen,  because 
his  whole  head  was  encased  into  his  hat,  yet  all  the  com- 
pany though  fit  to  join  and  form  as  it  were  a  barrier  be- 
twixt Ragotin  and  his  adversary  ;  who  by  this  means  got 
away,  while  the  charitable  women  players  raised  the  poor 
little  man,  roaring  like  a  lion  in  his  hat,  which  stopped  his 
eyes  and  mouth,  and  almost  hindered  him  from  fetching 
his  breath.  Now  the  difficulty  was,  how  to  pull  off  this 
hat  of  his ;  for  its  crown  being  in  the  form  of  a  butter-pot, 
and  the  mouth  of  it  narrower  than  the  bottom,  God  knows 
whether  a  head  that  got  inself  into  it  by  force,  and  whose 
nose  was  so  excessively  large,  was  able  to  get  out  the  same 
way.  This  misfortune  had  a  good  effect ;  for  his  anger  be- 
ing now  at  the  highest,  without  doubt  its  effects  had  been 
answerable,  had  not  his  hat,  which  suffocated  him,  made 
him  to  consult  his  own  preservation  rather  than  contrive 
the  destruction  of  another.  He  did  not  cry  out  for  help, 
because  he  had  not  the  use  of  his  tongue ;  but  when  the 
company  perceived  he  lifted  up  in  vain  his  trembling  hands 
to  his  head  in  order  to  set  it  at  liberty,  and  stamped  on 
the  floor  with  rage  and  indignation,  biting  his  nails  to  no 
purpose,  they  all  bent  their  thoughts  on  his  relief.  The 
first  efforts  they  used  to  pull  off  his  hat  were  so  violent, 
that  he  thought  they  had  been  going  to  pluck  off  his  head 
from  his  shoulders.  At  last,  being  almost  spent,  he  made 
signs  with  his  fingers  to  have  it  cut  with  a  pair  of  scissors. 
Mistress  Cave  unclasped  those  she  wore  on  her  girdle  ;  and 
Rancour,  who  was  to  perform  the  operation,  having  made 
a  show  of  making  the  incision  over  against  his  face  (which 
did  not  a  little  fright  him),  at  last  he  slit  his  hat  behind 
his  head  from  top  to  bottom.  As  soon  as  he  had  given 
vent  to  his  face,  all  the  company  fell  a  laughing  to  see  it 
bloated,  as  if  it  had  been  ready  to  burst,  upon  account  of 
the  vast  quantity  of  spirits  that  had  flushed  to  it  ;  and  be- 
sides, his  nose  was  a  little  excoriated.  However  the  jest 
had  gone  no  father,  had  not  a  bungling  tailor  advised  him 
to  get  his  hat  fine-drawn.  This  unseasonable  advice  so 
revived  his  anger,  which  was  not  entirely  extinguished,  that 
he  laid  hold  of  one  of  the  andirons,  and  threatened  to  throw 
it  at  the  company  ;  which  put  the  stoutest  of  them  all  into 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  35 

such  a  fright,  that  every  one  ran  to  the  door  in  order  to 
avoid  the  impending  blow.  They  pressed  so  far  upon  one 
another  that  not  above  one  was  able  to  get  out ;  and  he 
too  by  a  fall,  his  sparred  legs  having  entangled  themselves 
with  those  of  the  rest.  Ragotin  fell  a  laughing  in  his  turn, 
which  gave  all  the  company  fresh  courage  ;  they  returned 
him  his  book,  and  the  players  lent  him  an  old  hat.  He 
fell  into  a  violent  passion  against  the  man  who  used  him 
so  scurvily  ;  but  being  somewhat  more  vain  than  revenge- 
ful, he  told  the  players,  with  the  air  of  one  that  was  going 
to  promise  some  extraordinary  thing,  that  he  had  a  mind 
to  make  a  play  out  of  this  story  of  his,  and  would  contrive 
it  so  well,  that  he  was  sure  to  get  as  much  reputation  by 
that  single  piece  as  other  poets  had  in  all  their  lives  gained 
by  several.  Destiny  told  him  the  story  he  had  related  was 
very  entertaining,  but  would  by  no  means  fit  the  stage. 
"Sure,"  said  Ragotin,  "you  won't  pretend  to  teach  me  ?  I 
would  have  you  to  know  that  my  mother  was  seamstress  to 
the  poet  Gamier,  and  I  myself  have  one  of  his  ink-horns  at 
home."  Destiny  replied  that  even  Gamier  would  get  no 
reputation  by  it,  if  he  was  to  do  it  himself.  "But  what 
difficulty  do  you  find  in  it  ?  ■  asked  Ragotin.  "  The  diffi- 
culty," answered  Destiny,  "is  in  that  it  cannot  be  brought 
into  a  regular  play  without  committing  a  great  many  faults, 
both  in  point  of  decorum  and  judgment."  "As  for  that," 
said  Ragotin,  *  a  man  of  my  parts  may  make  new  rules 
whenever  he  pleases.  Pray  consider,"  added  he,  "what  a 
new  and  magnificent  thing  it  would  be  to  represent  a  great 
church-gate  in  front  of  the  stage,  before  which  twenty  beaux, 
more  or  less,  with  as  many  ladies,  should  appear  and  speak 
a  thousand  fine  things  to  one  another  ;  would  it  not  ravish 
all  the  spectators  with  admiration,  think  you?  lam  so  far 
of  your  opinion,"  continued  he,  "that  one  ought  to  observe 
decorum  and  good  manners,  and  therefore  would  not  make 
my  actors  talk  in  the  church."  Destiny  interrupted,  to  ask 
him  where  they  could  get  so  many  gentlemen  and  ladies. 
"And  how  do  they  in  colleges,"  said  Ragotin,  "where 
they  fight  pitched  battles?  I  myself  played  at  La  Fleche 
the  overthrow  at  the  Bridge  of  Ce,"  added  he;  "above  a 
hundred  soldiers  of  the   queen-mother's    party    appeared   on 


36  SCARRON 

the  stage,  besides  those  of  the  king's  army,  which  was  more 
numerous  ;  and  I  remember,  that  by  reason  of  a  great  shower 
that  fell  that  day  and  spoiled  the  sport,  it  was  reported 
that  all  the  feathers  of  the  country  gentry,  which  had  been 
borrowed  on  this  occasion,  would  never  come  to  themselves 
again.  *  Destiny,  who  took  great  delight  in  hearing  him 
utter  all  these  judicious  things,  replied  that  colleges  had 
scholars  enough  for  that  purpose,  whereas  their  company 
did  never  consist  in  all  of  above  seven  or  eight  persons. 
Rancour,  who,  you  know,  had  ever  been  a  malicious  dog, 
sided  with  Ragotin  in  this  matter,  the  better  to  help  to 
make  him  ridiculous,  and  told  his  comrade  he  was  not  of 
his  opinion ;  that  he  had  been  a  player  before  him  ;  that  a 
church-gate  would  be  the  finest  scene  that  ever  was  seen ; 
and  as  for  the  necessary  number  of  gentlemen  and  ladies, 
that  they  might  have  some  flesh  and  blood,  and  represent 
the  rest  with  pasteboard.  This  fine  expedient  of  paste- 
board, invented  by  Rancour,  set  all  the  company  a  laughing. 
Ragotin  laughed  with  the  rest,  and  swore  he  knew  that 
contrivance  well  enough,  but  had  a  mind  to  keep  it  to  him- 
self. <(  As  for  coaches,  *  added  he,  <(  will  it  not  be  a  novelty 
in  a  play?  I  formerly  personated  Toby's  dog,  and  did  it  so 
to  the  life,  that  the  whole  audience  was  highly  pleased  with 
my  performance,  taking  me  to  be  a  real  dog.  As  for  my 
part,8  continued  he,  <(  if  we  may  judge  of  things  by  the 
effects  they  work  upon  our  minds,  I  never  saw  *  Pyramus 
and  Thisbe  *  acted  in  my  life,  but  I  was  less  concerned  at 
Pyramus' s  death  than  frightened  by  the  roaring  of  the  lion." 
Rancour  backed  Ragotin' s  reasons  with  others  as  ridiculous, 
and  by  that  means  ingratiated  himself  so  far  into  him,  that 
Ragotin  took  him  to  supper.  All  the  other  impertinents 
left  likewise  the  players  at  liberty  ;  who  it  is  probable  had 
much  rather  go  to  supper  than  entertain  these  idle  cox- 
combs of  the  town. 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  37 


THIS  CONTAINS  WHAT  YOU'LL    FIND,  IK  YOU'LL 
BUT  TAKE  THE  PAINS  TO  READ  IT 

Ragotin  carried  Rancour  to  a  tavern,  where  he  called 
for  the  best  things  the  house  could  afford.  It  is 
thought  he  would  not  carry  him  to  his  own  house, 
because  his  commons  were  but  indifferent ;  but  I  will  say 
nothing  about  that,  for  fear  of  passing  rash  judgment ; 
neither  did  I  care  to  inquire  much  into  the  truth  of  the 
business,  because  I  did  not  think  it  worth  my  while,  es- 
pecially having  matters  of  far  greater  importance  to  relate. 
Rancour,  who  was  a  person  of  great  discernment  and  knew 
his  men  at  first  sight,  no  sooner  saw  a  brace  of  partridges 
and  a  capon  served  up  for  two  people,  then  he  began  to 
think  that  Ragotin  had  some  design  or  other,  and  did  not 
treat  him  so  well,  either  upon  account  of  his  own  merit, 
or  to  repay  the  civility  he  had  received  from  him  in  main- 
taining his  story  to  be  a  good  subject  for  a  play.  He 
therefore  expected  to  hear  some  new  extravagance  from 
Ragotin,  who,  however,  did  not  discover  his  thoughts  at 
first,  but  continued  talking  about  his  novel.  Notwith- 
standing he  at  length  repeated  several  lampoons  he  had 
made  upon  most  of  his  neighbors,  some  cuckolds  that  were 
nameless,  and  other  women.  He  sang  drunken  catches,  and 
showed  Rancour  abundance  of  acrostics  and  anagrams, 
which  are  generally  the  first  things  with  which  your  pal- 
try rhymers  begin  to  plague  men  of  sense.  Rancour  made 
him  a  complete  coxcomb  by  crying  up  all  he  heard,  with 
eyes  lifted  to  heaven,  and  swore  like  a  losing  game- 
ster, that  he  never  heard  anything  so  fine  in  his  life  :  nay, 
he  was  so  transported,  that  he  made  a  show  of  pulling  off 
his  hair  in  an  ecstasy  of  pleasure.  He  told  him  now  and 
then,  c<  It  is  a  great  misfortune  both  for  you  and  us,  that 
you  do  not  leave  off  all  other  business  and  write  for  the 
stage  ;  for  in  such  case,  in  two  or  three  years  time,  Corneille 
would  be  no  more  talked  of  than  Alexander  Hardy  is  now. 
I  am,"  added  he,  <(  an  absolute  stranger  to  flattery  ;  but  to 
encourage  you,  must  needs  own  I  no   sooner   saw  you  but 


38  SCARRON 

I  read  in  your  face  that  you  were  a  great  poet ;  and  you 
may  be  satisfied  by  my  comrades  what  I  told  them  about 
it.  I  am  seldom  mistaken ;  I  can  smell  a  poet  at  two 
miles'  distance  ;  and  therefore  as  soon  as  ever  I  cast  my 
eyes  on  you,  I  was  acquainted  with  your  genius  as  well  as 
if  I  had  brought  you  up.  *  All  this  fulsome  stuff  went  down 
with  Ragotin  as  glib  as  several  glasses  of  wine,  which  he 
drank  at  the  same  time,  and  which  intoxicated  his  brain  as 
much  as  Rancour's  commendations  swelled  his  vanity.  As 
for  Rancour,  he  eat  and  drank  very  heartily,  crying  out  now 
and  then,  <(  For  God's  sake,  Monsieur  Ragotin,  improve  your 
talent.  Once  more  let  me  tell  you,  you  are  much  to  blame 
not  to  make  your  fortune  and  ours.  For  my  part,  I  scrawl 
a  little  paper  sometimes  as  well  as  other  people,  but  if  I 
could  make  verses  half  so  good  as  those  you  have  been 
reading  to  me,  I  should  not  have  been  so  hard  put  to  it  to 
keep  life  and  soul  together,  but  would  live  upon  m)'  income 
as  well  as  Mondori.  Therefore,  Monsieur  Ragotin,  once  more 
pray  write  ;  and  if  this  next  winter  we  do  not  eclipse  the 
companies  of  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne  and  des  Marez,  may 
I  never  tread  the  stage  more  without  breaking  one  of  my 
arms  or  legs.  I  will  say  no  more,  and  so  let's  drink.8  He 
was  as  good  as  his  word ;  for  having  put  a  double  quantum 
into  a  glass,  he  drank  Monsieur  Ragotin's  health  to  Monsieur 
Ragotin  himself,  who  pledged  him  after  the  same  manner, 
and  returned  his  civility  with  drinking  the  health  of  the 
women  players.  This  he  drank  cap  in  hand,  and  in  such 
a  rapture,  that  as  he  set  the  glass  down  on  the  table  he 
broke  its  foot,  without  taking  notice  of  it ;  however,  he 
afterward  attempted  three  or  four  times  to  set  it  upright, 
but  finding  it  impossible,  he  at  last  flung  it  over  his  head; 
when  pulling  Rancour  by  the  sleeve,  he  let  him  know 
he  had  had  the  honor  of  breaking  a  glass  in  drinking 
the  players'  health.  It  vexed  him  a  little  that  Rancour 
did  not  laugh  at  it ;  but,  as  I  said  before,  he  was 
rather    an    envious    than    a   risible    animal.     Rancour  asked 

him    what   he    thought  of  their    women. The  little  man 

blushed  without  giving  an  answer.  But  Rancour  putting 
the  same  question  to  him  again,  at  last,  what  by  his 
stuttering,  blushing,  and   broken   speech,   he   gave   Rancour 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  39 

to  understand  that  he  liked  one  of  the  players  extremely. 
ft  But  which  of  them  ?  *  quoth  Rancour.  The  little  man 
was  so  disordered  for  having  said  so  much,  that  he  an- 
swered, <(  I  don't  know.8  (<  Nor  I  neither, w  said  Rancour. 
This  reply  cast  him  into  greater  disorder ;  insomuch  that 
with  a  bewildered  look  he  said,  "It  is,  it  is8 He  re- 
peated the  same  words  five  or  six  times  over  again ;  at 
which  the  stroller  growing  impatient,  cried,  (<  I  like  your 
choice,  she  is  a  very  beautiful  person.  *  This  put  him 
quite  out  of  countenance,  insomuch  that  he  could  never 
tell  which  he  loved  most  ;  though  it  may  be  he  knew 
nothing  of  the  matter  himself,  or  that  his  passion  was 
rather  lust  than  love.  At  last  Rancour  naming  Mrs.  Star, 
he  said  it  was  she  with  whom  he  was  in  love.  For  my 
part,  I  verily  believe  that  had  he  named  either  Angelica 
or  her  mother  Cave,  he  would  have  forgot  the  blow  he  had 
received  with  a  busk  from  the  one,  and  the  age  of  the 
other,  and  given  himself  body  and  soul  to  the  very  first 
that  Rancour  had  named,  so  great  was  the  confusion  of 
goatish  Ragotin.  The  stroller  however  made  him  drink  a 
good  bumper,  which  carrying  off  part  of  it,  pledged  him 
with  another ;  which  done,  looking  about  the  room,  he 
whispered,  as  though  it  were  a  great  secret  he  was  about 
to  tell,  though  there  were  nobody.  "Well,  your  wound  is 
not  mortal, *  quoth  Rancour;  (<and  you  have  addressed 
yourself  to  one  who  is  able  to  cure  you,  provided  you  will 
be  but  ruled  by  him  and  keep  counsel ;  not  but  your  en- 
terprise is  a  little  difficult,  for  Mrs.  Star  is  a  very  tigress, 
and  her  brother  Destiny  a  lion.  But  still,  she  does  not 
see  men  every  day  like  you,  and  I  know  not  what  I  can 
do.  Let's  drink  out  our  liquor,  and  to-morrow  will  be 
day.w  They  drank  each  a  glass  of  wine,  which  interrupted 
their  conversation  for  a  while.  After  this  Ragotin  re- 
counted all  his  accomplishments  and  riches,  and  told  Ran- 
cour that  a  nephew  of  his  was  clerk  to  a  financier ;  that 
this  nephew  had  contracted  great  friendship  with  the  Par- 
tisan de  Ralliere  during  the  time  he  was  at  Mans  to  settle 
an  excise  office  there,  by  the  means  of  which  nephew's 
interest  he  endeavored  to  give  him  hopes  that  he  would  pro- 
cure him  such   a   pension  from  the   king  as    his  players  in 


40  SCARRON 

ordinary  had.  He  told  him  likewise,  that  if  any  of  his  re- 
lations had  children,  he  could  prefer  them  in  the  Church, 
by  reason  his  niece  had  married  the  brother  of  a  certain 
miss,  kept  by  the  steward  of  an  abbot  of  that  province, 
who  had  good  livings  in  his  gift.  While  Ragotin  was 
thus  relating  what  great  interest  he  had,  Rancour,  who 
the  more  he  drank  the  more  thirsty  he  grew,  was  still  fill- 
ing both  the  glasses,  which  were  emptied  in  an  instant, 
Ragotin  not  daring  to  refuse  anything  from  the  hands  of  a 
man  from  whom  he  expected  such  a  great  piece  of  service. 
In  short,  they  swilled  it  about  till  they  had  both  their 
fill.  Rancour,  according  to  his  custom,  grew  more  serious, 
but  Ragotin  became  so  dull  and  heavy,  that  he  laid  down 
his  head  on  the  table  and  fell  asleep.  Rancour  called  one 
of  the  maids  to  make  a  bed  ready  for  him,  because 
nobody  was  up  at  his  inn.  The  maid  told  him  she 
had  as  good  make  two,  for  she  was  sure  Monsieur 
Ragotin  wanted  one  as  well  as  he.  In  the  meantime,  he 
slept  and  snored  as  heartily  as  ever  he  had  done  in 
his  life,  for  all  the  noise  they  made  while  they  were 
putting  clean  sheets  on  two  of  the  three  beds  that  were  in 
the  room.  But  when  the  maid  came  to  wake  him,  and 
acquaint  him  his  bed  was  ready,  he  called  her  a  thousand 
flirts,  and  threatened  to  beat  her.'  At  last  Rancour, 
having  turned  him  in  his  chair  toward  the  fire,  at  which 
the  sheets  were  aired,  he  rubbed  and  opened  his  eyes,  and 
suffered  himself  to  be  undressed  without  repining.  They 
got  him  into  his  bed  as  well  as  they  could  ;  and  Rancour, 
having  first  made  the  chamber-door  fast,  went  into  his. 
About  an  hour  after  Ragotin  got  up,  to  what  purpose  I 
never  yet  could  learn.  He  rambled  a  long  time  about  the 
room,  not  knowing  where  he  was ;  and  having  overturned 
all  the  chairs  and  tables  he  met  in  his  way,  and  tumbled 
himself  down  several  times,  without  being  able  to  find  his 
bed  again,  he  went  at  last  to  Rancour's  and  pulling  his 
bed-clothes,  made  him  to  start  out  of  his  sleep.  Rancour 
asked  him  what  he  would  have.  (<  I  am  looking  for  my 
bed,"  said  Ragotin.  <(  It  is  on  the  left-hand  of  mine," 
replied  Rancour.  The  little  drunken  man,  however,  took  to 
the  right,   and  thrust  himself  betwixt  the  rug  and  mattress 


THE   STROLLING  PLAYERS  41 

of  the  third  bed,  which  had  neither  feather-bed,  quilt,  nor 
sheets,  and  there  he  slept  all  night  very  quietly.  Rancour 
got  up  and  dressed  himself  before  Ragotin  waked  ;  when 
he  asked  him  whether  it  was  to  do  penance  that  he  had 
left  his  bed  to  sleep  on  straw.  Ragotin  was  positive  that 
he  never  got  up,  and  that  the  room  must  be  haunted. 
The  innkeeper  hearing  this,  stood  up  for  the  reputation  of 
his  house,  and  picking  a  quarrel  with  Ragotin,  threatened 
to  sue  him  for  giving  it  an  ill  name.  But  I  have  suf- 
ficiently exercised  your  patience  with  this  tedious  story  of 
Ragotin's  debauch,  and  therefore  let  us  return  to  the 
strollers'  inn. 


A  COMBAT  IN  THE  NIGHT 

I  am  too  much  a  man  of  honor  not  to  advertise  the 
courteous  reader,  that  if  he  be  offended  at  all  the  silly 
trifles  he  has  already  found  in  this  book,  he  will  do 
well  not  to  go  on  with  the  reading  of  it ;  for,  upon  my 
conscience,  he  must  expect  nothing  else,  although  the  vol- 
ume should  swell  to  the  bigness  of  that  of  the  Grand 
Cyrus  :  and  if  from  what  he  has  read  he  doubts  what  will 
follow,  perhaps  I  am  in  the  same  quandary  as  well  as  he. 
For  one  chapter  draws  on  another,  and  I  do  with  my  book 
as  some  do  with  their  horses,  putting  the  bridle  on  their 
necks,  and  trusting  to  their  good  conduct.  But  perhaps  I 
have  a  fixed  design,  and  without  filling  my  chapters  with 
examples  for  imitation,  shall  instruct  with  delight  after  the 
same  manner  as  a  drunken  man  creates  in  us  an  aversion 
for  drunkenness,  and  yet  may  sometimes  divert  us  with 
his  merry  impertinence.  Let  us  end  this  moral  reflection, 
and  return  to  our  strollers,  whom  we  left  in  the  inn. 
As  soon  as  their  room  was  cleared,  and  Rancour  had 
got  thither  with  Ragotin,  the  doorkeeper  they  left  at 
Tours  came  into  the  inn  with  a  horseload  of  goods, 
and  sat  down  to  supper  with  them.  By  this  person, 
and  what  they  had  learned  from  one  another,  they  under- 
stood  how    the    intendant  of    the    province   could   do  them 


42  SCARRON 

no  harm,  having  had  much  ado  to  escape  the  hands 
of  the  boisterous  mob,  with  his  fusiliers.  Destiny  told 
his  comrades  how  he  had  got  away  in  his  Turkish 
habit,  with  which  he  designed  to  represent  Mairet's  <(Soli- 
man  *  ;  and  that  being  informed  that  the  plague  was  at 
Alencon,  he  was  come  to  Mans  with  Cave  and  Rancour, 
with  the  same  equipage  we  have  described  in  the  beginning 
of  these  most  true,  though  little  heroical  adventures.  Mrs. 
Star  acquainted  them  also  with  the  good  offices  she  had  re- 
ceived from  a  lady  at  Tours,  whose  name  never  came  to 
my  knowledge,  and  how  by  her  means  she  had  been 
conducted  as  far  as  a  village  near  Bonnestable,  where  she 
sprained  her  foot  as  she  alighted  off  her  horse.  She  added 
that  hearing  the  company  was  gone  to  Mans,  she  got  her- 
self carried  thither  in  a  litter,  which  the  lady  of  that  vil- 
lage had  lent  her  with  a  great  deal  of  civility.  After 
supper,  Destiny  alone  stayed  in  the  lady's  chamber.  Cave 
loved  him  as  if  he  had  been  her  own  son ;  Mrs.  Star 
was  no  less  dear  to  her  ;  and  her  daughter  and  only  heiress, 
Angelica,  loved  Destiny  and  Star  like  a  brother  and  sister. 
She  did  not  yet  exactly  know  who  they  were,  nor  upon 
what  account  they  had  turned  players;  but  she  had  taken 
notice,  that  though  they  called  one  another  brother  and 
sister,  yet  were  they  better  friends  than  near  relations  ;  that 
Destiny  paid  to  Star  the  greatest  respect  imaginable  ;  that 
she  was  extremely  modest  and  virtuous :  and  as  Destiny 
had  a  great  deal  of  wit,  and  seemed  to  have  a  liberal  ed- 
ucation, so  Mrs.  Star  looked  more  like  a  young  lady  of 
quality  than  a  stroller.  Now  Destiny  and  Star  were  be- 
loved by  Cave  and  her  daughter,  because  they  really  de- 
served their  love  both  by  their  good  qualities  and  the 
mutual  friendship  which  they  naturally  had  for  two  play- 
ers, who  had  as  much  merit  as  any  in  France,  though  they 
never  had  the  good  fortune  to  tread  either  of  the  two 
theatres  in  Paris,  which  are  the  non  plus  ultra  of  French 
players.  Those  who  do  not  understand  these  three  little 
Latin  words  (which  come  so  pat  in  my  way,  that  I  could 
not  refuse  to  place  them  here)  may  be  pleased  to  ask  some 
Latinist  of  their  acquaintance  the  meaning  of  them.  To 
end  this   digression  ;  Destiny   and   Star    did   not   scruple   to 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  43 

express  their  mutual  fondness  before  Cave  and  Angelica, 
and  show  the  extreme  joy  they  had  to  see  each  other  after 
so  long  an  absence.  They  related,  as  pathetically  as  ever 
they  could,  how  uneasy  they  were  about  each  other ;  and 
Destiny  acquainted  Mrs.  Star,  that  the  last  time  they  acted  at 
Tours,  he  thought  he  had  spied  their  inveterate  persecutor 
among  the  crowd  of  their  auditors,  although  he  had  his  cloak 
about  his  face  :  and  that  as  he  went  out  of  the  city,  not  finding 
himself  able  to  resist  him  if  he  should  have  offered  to  attack  him, 
he  had  disguised  himself  by  putting  a  great  patch  on  his 
face.  While  Destiny  was  speaking,  poor  Mrs.  Star  could 
not  forbear  shedding  some  few  tears :  Destiny  was  sensibly 
touched  with  them  ;  and  having  comforted  her  as  well  as 
he  could,  added,  that  if  she  would  but  suffer  him  to  use 
the  same  endeavors  in  seeking  out  their  enemy  as  he  had 
used  till  then  in  avoiding  him,  he  would  soon  free  her  from 
his  persecutions,  or  lose  his  life  in  the  attempt.  These  last 
words  redoubled  her  grief  :  Destiny  had  not  courage  enough 
to  forbear  grieving  likewise  ;  and  Cave  and  her  daughter,  who 
were  of  a  tender  and  compassionate  temper,  grieved  also, 
either  out  of  complaisance  or  through  contagion.  I  cannot 
tell  whether  Destiny  wept,  but  this  I  know,  the  women  and 
he  were  silent  a  long  while ;  and  in  the  meantime  every  one 
wept  as  they  thought  fit.  At  last  Cave  renewed  the  con- 
versation which  tears  had  interrupted,  and  reproached  Destiny 
and  Star,  that  though  during  the  time  they  had  lived  together 
they  might  have  been  convinced  how  much  she  was  their 
friend,  yet  they  reposed  so  little  confidence  in  her  and  her 
daughter,  that  they  were  still  unacquainted  with  their  birth  and 
quality  ;  adding,  she  had  not  met  with  crosses  enough  in 
her  life  to  enable  her  to  advise  unfortunate  persons  such 
as  they  two  seemed  to  be.  To  which  Destiny  answered, 
that  their  not  discovering  themselves  to  her  was  not  out  of 
any  distrust,  but  because  he  thought  the  recital  of  their 
misfortunes  could  not  but  be  very  tedious ;  telling  her 
withal,  that  he  would  be  ready  to  entertain  her  with  the 
story  of  their  adventures  whenever  she  was  willing  to  throw 
any  time  away  upon  the  hearing  of  it.  Cave  was  glad  of 
this  opportunity  to  satisfy  her  curiosity  ;  and  her  daughter, 
who  had  the  same  inclination,  being  sat  near  her  on  Star's 


44  SCARRON 

bed,  Destiny  was  about  to  begin  his  story,  when  they  heard 
a  great  noise  in  the  next  chamber.  Destiny  stood  listening 
a  while ;  but  the  noise  and  squabble  increasing,  and  some- 
body crying  out,  *  Murder  !  help  !  murder  !  * —  he  with  three 
leaps  got  out  of  the  chamber  at  the  expense  of  his  doublet, 
which  Cave  and  Angelica  had  torn  as  they  were  going  to 
stop  him.  He  went  into  the  chamber  from  whence  the 
noise  came,  which  was  so  dark  that  he  could  not  see  his 
own  nose ;  and  where  the  fisticuffs,  boxes  on  the  ears,  and 
several  confused  voices  of  fighting  men  and  women, 
together  with  the  hollow  noise  of  naked  feet  stamping  on 
the  floor,  made  a  hideous  and  frightful  uproar.  He  ran 
very  rashly  among  the  combatants,  and  in  one  moment 
received  a  cuff  on  one  side,  and  a  box  on  the  ear  on  the 
other  ;  which  changed  his  good  intention  of  parting  those 
hobgoblins  into  a  violent  thirst  for  revenge.  He  began  to 
set  his  hands  agoing,  and  made  a  flourish  with  his  two 
arms,  by  which  many  a  maimed  chops  were  belabored,  as 
it  afterward  appeared  by  his  bloody  fists.  The  scuffle 
lasted  so  long  that  he  received  twenty  cuffs  more,  which  he 
however  returned  with  double  the  number.  In  the  heat  of 
the  fight  he  felt  himself  bit  on  the  calf  of  the  leg,  when 
clapping  his  hands  to  the  place,  he  met  with  something 
hairy,  which  he  for  that  reason  took  to  be  a  dog ;  but  Cave 
and  her  daughter,  who  appeared  at  the  chamber  door  at 
that  interim  with  a  candle,  like  the  fire  of  St.  Helmo  after 
a  storm,  discovered  to  Destiny  that  he  was  amid  seven 
persons  in  their  shirts,  who  having  been  in  close  conflict 
before,  began  to  let  one  another  go  as  soon  as  the  light 
appeared.  This  tranquillity  however  did  not  last  long. 
The  innkeeper,  who  was  one  of  the  naked  combatants, 
grappled  the  poet  anew ;  Olive,  who  was  also  among 
them,  was  attacked  by  the  innkeeper's  man,  another  of  the 
combatants  ;  Destiny  went  to  part  them ;  whereupon  the 
hostess,  who  was  the  animal  that  had  bit  him,  and  whom 
he  had  taken  for  a  dog  by  reason  she  was  bare-headed  and 
had  short  hair,  flew  at  his  face,  assisted  by  two  maids,  as 
naked  and  bare-headed  as  herself.  The  shrieks  and  cries 
filled  the  air  once  more,  the  cuffs  and  boxes  made  the  room 
to  ring  again,  and  the  fight  grew  still  warmer  and  warmer. 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  45 

At  last  .several  persons  who  waked  at  the  noise  came  into 
the  field  of  battle,  parted  the  combatants,  and  procured  a 
second  suspension  of  arms.  Now  the  question  was  to 
know  the  occasion  of  the  quarrel,  and  what  fatal  accident 
had  brought  seven  naked  persons  into  one  room.  Olive, 
who  seemed  the  least  concerned,  said  that  the  poet  being 
gone  out  of  the  room,  he  saw  him  come  running  back  as 
fast  as  he  could,  followed  by  the  innkeeper,  who  seemed  to 
have  a  mind  to  beat  him ;  that  the  hostess  followed  her 
husband,  fell  foul  of  the  poet ;  that  as  he  was  going  to  part 
them,  a  servant  and  two  maids  fell  upon  him  ;  and  that  the 
light  happening  to  go  out  at  the  same  time,  made  the  fight 
last  longer  than  it  would  otherwise  have  done.  Now  it 
was  the  poet's  turn  to  speak  for  himself.  He  said  that 
having  made  two  of  the  finest  stanzas  that  ever  was  written 
since  stanzas  were  in  fashion,  and  fearing  to  lose  them,  he 
went  to  the  maid  of  the  inn  for  a  candle,  which  she  scorn- 
fully refused  to  give  him  ;  whereupon  the  innkeeper  called 
him  rope-dancer,  which  he  returned  by  calling  him 
cuckold.  He  had  no  sooner  spoke  this  last  word  but  the 
host,  who  was  within  reach,  gave  him  a  good  slap  on  the 
chops  ;  3rou  would  have  thought  they  had  made  a  fighting 
concert  together ;  for  as  soon  as  the  box  on  the  ear  was 
given,  the  innkeeper's  wife,  his  man,  and  his  maids  rushed 
upon  the  strollers  altogether,  who  received  them  with 
sound  cuffs.  This  last  encounter  was  more  fierce  and  ob- 
stinate than  either  of  the  other  two.  Destiny  having 
closed  with  a  lusty  wench  and  tucked  up  her  skirts,  gave 
her  a  thousand  slaps  ;  Olive,  who  saw  the  company  pleased 
with  it,  did  the  same  to  the  other  maids.  The  innkeeper 
was  busy  with  the  poet  ;  and  the  hostess,  the  most  furious 
of  all  the  combatants,  was  seized  by  some  of  the  specta- 
tors ;  which  made  her  to  fly  into  such  a  passion,  that  she 
cried  out  (<  Thieves  !  thieves !  8  Her  cries  woke  La  Rap- 
piniere,  who  lived  over  against  the  inn.  He  caused  the 
door  to  be  broken  open,  and  judging  by  the  noise  he 
heard  that  there  could  be  no  less  than  seven  or  eight  peo- 
ple killed,  he  parted  the  fray  in  the  king's  name ;  and 
having  learned  the  cause  of  all  the  disturbance,  exhorted 
the   poet   not    to    make   any  more  verses  in  the  night-time, 


46  SCARRON 

and  was  like  to  have  beaten  the  innkeeper  and  his  wife  for 
giving  a  hundred  abusive  names  to  the  players,  whom  they 
called  jack-puddings  and  tumblers,  swearing,  withal,  to 
turn  them  out  of  doors  the  next  day  ;  but  L,a  Rappiniere, 
to  whom  the  innkeeper  owed  money,  threatening  to  arrest 
him,  his  mouth  was  soon  stopped.  I^a  Rappiniere  after 
the  fray  went  home,  the  rest  returned  to  their  chambers, 
and  Destiny  to  that  of  the  players,  where  Cave  desired 
him  not  to  defer  any  longer  relating  the  history  of  his  and 
his  sister's  adventures.  He  told  her  he  was  ready  to  sat- 
isfy her  curiosity,  and  began  his  relation  after  the  manner 
you  shall  find  in  the  following  chapter. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  DESTINY  AND  MRS.  STAR 

I  was  born  in  a  village  near  Paris,  and  might  make  you 
believe  I  came  of  a  very  illustrious  family,  since  nobody 
can  disprove  what  a  stranger  says  of  himself ;  but  I  am 
too  generous,  and  too  much  a  lover  of  truth,  to  deny  the 
meanness  of  my  extraction.  My  father  was  one  of  the 
topping  and  most  substantial  men  in  his  village,  whom  I 
have  often  heard  to  say  that  he  was  a  poor  gentleman's 
son  ;  that  he  had  spent  his  youth  in  the  wars,  where  hav- 
ing got  nothing  but  dry  blows  and  empty  pockets,  he  be- 
took himself  to  the  service  of  a  rich  Parisian  lady  in  the 
quality  of  her  gentleman  usher  ;  and  that  having  scraped 
together  a  sum  of  money  in  this  place  (because  he  was 
also  the  steward  and  caterer  of  the  house,  and  had  the 
knack  of  emptying  his  mistress's  purse  to  fill  his  own 
pockets)  he  married  an  old  waiting- woman  of  the  family, 
who  died  soon  after,  and  left  him  all  she  had  got 
in  her  service.  Being  soon  weary  of  the  condition  of 
a  widower,  and  no  less  of  that  of  a  servant,  he  mar- 
ried a  country-woman,  who  furnished  his  lady's  house 
with  bread.  And  it  is  to  this  last  marriage  that  I  owe 
my  birth.  My  father  was  called  Gariquet  ;  what  coun- 
try he  was  of  I  could  never  yet  learn  ;  and  as  for  my 
mother's    name,    it   signifies   nothing    to   my  story.     Let  it 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  47 

suffice  that  she  was  more  covetous  than  my  father,  and 
my  father  more  covetous  than  she,  and  that  they  had  both 
a  pretty  large  conscience.  My  father  had  the  honor  of 
being  the  inventor  of  the  piece  of  flesh  tied  with  a  string 
to  the  pot-handle,  which  having  boiled  a  considerable  time, 
may  be  taken  out  again,  and  serve  several  times  to  make 
soup.  I  could  tell  a  hundred  more  particulars  of  his  good 
husbandry,  which  gained  him,  with  justice,  the  reputation 
of  a  man  of  wit  and  invention  ;  but  for  fear  of  being  too 
tedious,  I  will  content  myself  with  relating  only  two, 
which  may  seem  incredible,  though  they  are  most  certainly 
true.  He  had  bought  up  a  great  quantity  of  corn,  with 
design  to  sell  it  very  dear  in  case  the  year  should  prove 
bad ;  but  the  harvest  being  plentiful,  and  corn  falling  in 
its  price,  he  was  so  possessed  with  despair  and  the  devil, 
that  he  had  an  inclination  to  hang  himself.  One  of  the 
neighbors  who  happened  to  be  in  the  room  when  he  en- 
tered upon  that  noble  design,  and  had  hid  herself  for  fear 
of  being  seen  (for  what  reason  I  know  not),  was  not  a 
little  surprised  when  she  saw  him  hang  dangling  on  one  of 
the  joists  of  the  ceiling.  She  immediately  ran  to  him, 
crying  out  <(  Help  !  help  !  •  and  began  to  cut  the  rope ;  and 
by  the  help  of  my  mother,  who  came  in  at  the  noise,  got 
it  from  his  neck.  Perhaps  they  repented  the  doing  of  so 
good  an  action-,  for  he  beat  them  both  to  mummy,  and 
made  that  poor  woman  pay  for  the  rope  she  had  cut,  by 
stopping  some  money  he  owed  her.  His  other  prank  is  no 
less  strange.  He  grudged  himself  whatever  he  ate,  and  his 
wife  being  brought  to  bed  of  a  boy,  the  fancy  took  him  in 
the  crown  that  she  had  milk  enough  to  nourish  both  his 
son  and  himself ;  and  hoped  that  by  sucking  bis  wife  he 
should  save  bread  and  live  upon  a  food  of  easy  digestion. 
My  mother's  wit  was  much  inferior  to  his,  though  her 
avarice  was  as  great ;  but  though  she  did  not  invent  things 
as  my  father  did,  yet  having  once  conceived  them  she  put 
them  in  execution  with  more  exactness  than  he  could.  She 
therefore  tried  to  nourish  both  her  son  and  her  husband 
with  her  own  milk,  and  ventured  also  to  feed  upon  it  her- 
self, with  so  much  obstinacy,  that  the  little  innocent  crea- 
ture was  soon  starved  to  death  ;  and  my  father  and  mother 


48  SCARRON 

were  so  weakened  and  famished,  that  when  they  returned 
to  meat  they  surfeited  themselves,  and  fell  both  sick  upon 
it.  Sometime  after  my  mother  went  with  child  with 
me,  and  having  happily  brought  forth  a  most  unhappy 
creature,  my  father  went  to  Paris  to  desire  his  mistress  to 
stand  godmother  to  his  son,  together  with  an  honest 
churchman,  residing  at  his  village,  where  he  had  a  bene- 
fice. As  he  was  returning  home  in  the  evening  to  avoid 
the  heat  of  the  day,  and  passed  through  a  great  street  in 
the  suburbs,  the  houses  whereof  were  for  the  most  part 
a-building,  he  saw  afar  off  by  the  moonshine  somewhat 
that  glittered  in  his  eyes,  as  he  was  crossing  the  street. 
He  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  inquire  what  it  was ; 
but  hearing  the  groans  of  one  in  pain  at  the  same  place 
where  what  he  had  seen  vanished  out  of  his  sight,  he 
boldly  entered  one  of  those  unfinished  buildings,  where  he 
found  a  woman  sitting  alone  on  the  ground.  The  place 
she  was  in  received  sufficient  light  from  the  moon  to  let 
my  father  perceive  that  she  was  very  young  and  very 
richly  clad,  having  on  a  gown  of  silver  tissue,  which  was 
the  glittering  thing  my  father  saw  the  moment  before. 
You  must  not  question  that  my  father,  who  did  not  want 
resolution,  was  less  surprised  than  the  young  lady  ;  for  she 
was  in  a  condition  that  nothing  worse  could  happen  to  her. 
This  consideration  gave  her  the  assurance  to  speak  first 
and  tell  my  father  that  if  he  was  a  Christian  he  would 
take  pity  on  her;  that  she  was  in  labor  ready  to  be 
brought  to  bed,  and  that  the  maid  she  had  sent  for  a 
trusty  midwife  not  returning,  she  had  slipped  away  from 
her  house  without  waking  anybody,  her  maid  having  left 
the  door  open  that  she  might  come  in  again  without  mak- 
ing any  noise.  She  had  scarce  made  an  end  of  this  short  re- 
lation but  she  was  delivered  of  a  child,  which  my  father 
received  into  the  lappet  of  his  cloak.  He  acted  the  midwife 
as  well  as  he  could,  and  the  young  lady  conjured  him  to 
carry  away  the  creature  with  all  speed,  to  take  care  of  it, 
and  not  to  fail  two  days  after  to  go  to  an  old  churchman 
she  named  to  him,  who  would  give  him  money  and  all 
necessary  orders  for  nursing  of  the  child.  At  this  word 
money  my  father,  who  had  a  penurious   souL  was  going  to 


THE   STROLLING  PLAYERS  49 

display  all  the  eloquence  of  a  gentleman  usher,  but  she 
would  not  give  him  time  ;  she  put  into  his  hands  a  ring 
for  a  token  to  the  priest  he  was  to  go  to  from  her ;  caused 
him  to  swaddle  the  young  creature  in  her  neck-handker- 
chief, and  sent  him  away  in  haste,  notwithstanding  his  un- 
willingness to  leave  her  in  the  condition  she  was  in.  I  am 
inclined  to  believe  she  had  much  ado  to  get  home  again  ; 
as  for  my  father,  he  returned  to  his  village,  gave  the  child 
to  his  wife,  and  did  not  fail  two  days  after  to  go  to  the 
old  priest  and  show  him  the  ring.  He  learned  from  him 
that  the  child's  mother  was  a  young  lady  of  a  very  good 
family,  and  very  rich ;  that  she  had  had  this  child  by  a 
Scotch  lord,  who  was  gone  into  Ireland  to  raise  soldiers 
for  the  king's  service  ;  and  that  this  foreign  nobleman  had 
promised  her  marriage.  Moreover  the  priest  told  him  that 
by  reason  of  her  precipitate  delivery  she  was  fallen  des- 
perately sick,  and  being  in  that  extremity  had  confessed 
all  to  her  father  and  mother,  who  instead  of  chiding  her 
endeavored  to  comfort  her,  by  reason  she  was  an  only 
child  ;  that  the  thing  was  yet  a  secret  in  the  house,  and 
therefore  assured  my  father  that  if  he  would  but  take  care 
of  the  child  and  keep  counsel,  his  fortune  should  be  made. 
Thereupon  he  gave  him  fifty  crowns  and  a  bundle  of  all 
sorts  of  things  necessary  for  a  child.  My  father  returned 
home  after  he  had  well  dined  with  the  priest.  I  was  put 
out  to  nurse,  and  the  stranger  kept  at  home  in  my  stead. 
A  month  after  the  Scotch  lord  came  back,  and  having 
found  his  mistress  so  very  ill  that  she  could  not  live  much 
longer,  he  married  her  one  day  before  she  died,  and  so  was 
no  sooner  a  husband  than  a  widower.  He  came  two  or 
three  days  after  to  our  town  with  the  parents  of  his  wife. 
There  they  began  to  weep  afresh,  and  were  like  to  stifle 
the  child  with  kisses.  My  father  had  reason  to  be  thankful 
to  the  Scotch  lord  for  his  generosity,  and  the  relations  of 
the  child  did  not  forget  him  besides.  They  returned  to 
Paris  very  much  satisfied  with  the  care  my  father  and 
mother  took  of  the  boy,  whom  they  would  not  yet  take 
home  with  them  because  the  marriage  was  still  kept  secret, 
for  some  reasons  which  never  came  to  my  knowledge.  As 
soon  as  I  was  able  to  walk,  my  father  took  me  home  to 
4 


50  SCARRON 

keep  the  young  Earl  of  Glaris  company  (for  so  he  was 
called  by  his  father's  name).  The  natural  antipathy  said 
to  have  been  between  Jacob  and  Esau  in  the  very  womb 
of  their  mother  was  never  greater  than  that  which  was 
between  the  young  earl  and  me.  My  father  and  mother 
loved  him  tenderly,  and  had  an  aversion  for  me,  though  I 
was  the  more  hopeful  boy  of  the  two.  There  appeared 
nothing  but  what  was  mean  in  him.  As  for  me,  I  seemed 
to  be  what  I  was  not,  and  rather  an  earl's  son  than 
Gariquet's  ;  and  if  I  am  at  last  no  more  than  a  wretched 
player,  it  is  undoubtedly  because  fortune  had  a  mind  to  be 
revenged  upon  nature  for  designing  to  make  me  something 
without  her  help  ;  or,  if  you  please,  because  nature  is  some- 
times willing  to  favor  those  whom  fortune  is  unkind  to. 
I  shall  pass  over  in  silence  the  infancy  of  two  young 
clowns  (for  Glaris  was  such  by  education  as  well  as  myself) , 
since  our  most  memorable  adventures  were  nothing  but 
abundance  of  fisticuffs.  In  all  the  quarrels  we  had  I 
always  got  the  better  of  him,  except  when  my  father  and 
mother  sided  with  him,  which  they  did  so  often  and  with 
so  much  heat  that  my  godfather,  Monsieur  Saint  Sauveur 
by  name,  was  highly  offended  at  it,  and  demanded  me  of 
my  father.  He  made  him  a  present  of  me  with  great  joy, 
and  my  mother  had  yet  less  regret  than  he  to  part  with 
me.  Thus  I  was  at  my  godfather's  well  clad,  well  fed, 
much  caressed,  and  never  beaten.  He  spared  no  costs  to 
make  me  read  and  write;  and  as  soon  as  I  was  fit  to 
learn  Latin,  he  obtained  of  the  lord  of  our  village,  who 
was  a  very  civil  gentleman  and  very  rich,  that  I  should 
study  with  two  of  his  sons  under  a  learned  man  he  had 
from  Paris,  and  to  whom  he  gave  a  very  good  salary. 
This  gentleman,  the  Baron  d'Arques  by  name,  took  great 
care  to  have  his  sons  well  educated.  The  eldest,  called 
Saint  Far,  was  a  handsome  gentleman,  but  as  untractably 
rough  and  brutish  in  his  nature  as  ever  man  was  ;  to  make 
amends,  the  younger  brother  was  both  handsomer  than 
Saint  Far,  and  had  a  vivacity  of  mind  and  greatness  of 
soul  equal  to  the  beauty  of  his  body.  In  short,  I  do  not 
think  there  ever  was  a  more  hopeful  young  gentleman  than 
Vervelle,  for    this   was    the    younger    brother's   name.      He 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  51 

honored  me  with  his  friendship,  and  as  for  me,  I  loved 
him  like  a  brother  and  ever  respected  him  as  a  master. 
As  for  Saint  Far,  he  had  none  but  ill-inclinations,  and  I 
cannot  better  express  the  sentiments  he  had  both  for  his 
brother  and  me,  than  by  telling  you  that  he  loved  not  his 
brother  more  than  me,  for  whom  he  had  a  great  indif- 
ference ;  and  that  he  hated  me  no  more  than  he  did  his 
brother,  whom  he  loved  but  little.  His  diversions  were 
different  from  ours,  for  he  loved  nothing  but  hunting,  and 
hated  books  of  morality ;  whereas  Vervelle  seldom  went 
out  a  hunting,  and  took  great  delight  in  reading ;  wherein 
I  agreed  wonderfully  with  him,  as  I  did  in  everything  else, 
without  being  put  to  the  trouble  of  doing  anything  out  of 
complaisance,  as  in  duty  I  ought.  The  Baron  d'Arques 
had  a  large  library  of  romances.  Our  tutor  who  had  never 
read  any  in  his  college,  and  who  at  first  forbade  us  the 
reading  of  them,  having  condemned  them  a  hundred  times 
before  the  Baron  d'Arques  to  render  them  as  odious  to 
him  as  he  found  them  delightful,  grew  at  last  so  much  in 
love  with  them  himself,  that  having  devoured  both  the  old 
and  the  new  ones,  he  confessed  that  the  reading  of  good 
romances  was  as  instructive  as  pleasant,  and  no  less  proper 
to  inspire  young  people  with  noble  sentiments  than  the 
reading  of  Plutarch.  He  therefore  encouraged  us  to  read 
them  as  earnestly  as  he  had  discouraged  us  before,  and 
first  of  all  advised  us  to  peruse  the  modern ;  but  these 
were  not  yet  suitable  to  our  palates ;  and  till  we  were 
fifteen  we  were  much  more  delighted  with  reading  Amadis 
de  Gaul  than  Astrea,  and  other  fine  romances  that  have 
been  made  since,  by  which  the  French  have  shown  to  the 
world,  as  they  have  by  a  thousand  things  besides,  that  if 
they  do  not  invent  so  much  as  other  nations,  yet  do  they 
nevertheless  bring  the  inventions  of  others  to  a  far  greater 
perfection.  We  therefore  bestowed  upon  the  reading  of 
romances  the  greatest  part  of  the  time  we  had  allowed  us 
for  diversion.  As  for  Saint  Far,  he  called  us  the  Ruyters, 
and  went  abroad  every  day  either  to  hunt  or  to  beat  the 
poor  country  fellows,  which  he  did  with  wonderful  success. 
The  inclination  I  had  to  do  well  gained  me  the  favor  of 
the  Baron   d'Arques,  who   loved    me   no  less  than  if   I  had 


52  SCARRON 

been  his  near  relation.  He  would  not  suffer  me  to  leave 
his  sons  when  he  sent  them  to  the  academy,  but  sent  me 
thither  along  with  them,  and  that  rather  as  a  companion 
than  a  servant.  There  we  stayed  about  two  years  to  learn 
our  exercises,  at  the  end  of  which  a  man  of  quality,  related 
to  the  Baron  d'Arques,  raising  soldiers  for  the  Venetians, 
Saint  Far  and  Vervelle  persuaded  their  father  to  let  them 
go  to  Venice  with  their  kinsman.  The  good  old  gentleman 
desired  I  would  still  accompany  them,  and  Monsieur  de 
Saint  Sauveur,  my  godfather,  who  loved  me  extremely,  gave 
me  very  generously  bills  of  exchange  for  a  considerable 
sum,  to  make  use  of  in  case  those  I  had  the  honor  to 
accompany  should  be  unwilling  to  bear  my  charges.  We 
went  the  longest  way  about  on  purpose  to  see  Rome  and 
the  other  fine  cities  of  Italy,  in  each  of  which  we  stayed 
a  considerable  time,  excepting  those  which  are  in  the 
Spaniards'  hands.  I  fell  sick  at  Rome,  and  the  two 
brothers  went  on  their  journey ;  the  gentleman  under 
whose  conduct  they  were  being  willing  to  lay  hold  of  the 
opportunity  of  the  pope's  galleys,  which  were  putting  out 
to  sea  to  join  the  Venetian  army  near  the  Straits  of  the 
Dardanelles,  where  they  waited  for  the  Turks.  Vervelle 
was  extraordinarily  sorry  to  leave  me,  and  I  almost  mad  to 
part  from  him,  at  a  time  when  by  my  services  I  might  in 
some  measure  have  deserved  the  love  he  had  for  me.  As 
for  Saint  Far,  I  believe  he  left  me  with  as  much  indif- 
ference as  if  he  had  never  seen  me ;  and  I  never  thought 
of  him,  but  only  because  he  was  brother  to  Vervelle,  who 
left  me  as  much  money  as  he  could  spare  ;  but  whether 
Saint  Far  was  consenting  I  cannot  tell.  Thus  I  was  left 
sick  at  Rome,  having  no  other  acquaintance  besides  my 
landlord,  a  Fleming  apothecary,  who  took  extraordinary 
care  of  me  during  my  illness,  and  who,  as  far  as  I  can 
judge,  had  more  skill  in  physic  than  the  Italian  doctor 
who  looked  after  me.  At  last  I  recovered,  and  gathered 
strength  enough  to  go  and  view  the  most  remarkable 
places  in  Rome,  where  strangers  find  abundantly  where- 
withal to  entertain  their  curiosit}r.  I  took  a  singular 
delight  in  viewing  the  vines  (thus  are  called  several 
gardens,  finer  than  the  Tuileries   in   Paris,  which   cardinals 


THE   STROLLING  PLAYERS  53 

and  other  persons  of  quality  keep  with  much  cost  in  Rome, 
rather  out  of  vanity  than  for  their  own  entertainment, 
since  they  never,  or  at  least  very  seldom,  go  there  them- 
selves). One  da}r,  as  I  was  walking  in  one  of  the  finest,  I 
saw  at  the  turning  of  the  wall  two  women  very  genteelly 
dressed,  whom  two  young  Frenchmen  stopped  and  would 
not  let  go,  unless  the  youngest  of  them  unveiled  her  face. 
One  of  those  two  Frenchmen,  who  looked  like  the  master 
of  the  other,  had  even  the  insolence  to  offer  to  unveil  her 
by  force,  while  his  man  held  the  other,  who  was  bare-faced. 
I  was  not  long  debating  what  I  should  do  on  this  occasion, 
but  presently  told  those  rude  men  that  I  was  resolved  not 
to  suffer  them  to  offer  violence  to  those  ladies.  They  were 
both  very  much  surprised,  for  I  spoke  with  such  a  resolu- 
tion as  would  have  daunted  them  had  they  had  their 
swords  as  well  as  myself.  The  two  ladies  came  over  to  me, 
and  the  young  Frenchman  choosing  rather  to  be  baulked 
than  beaten,  told  me  as  he  went  off  :  <(  Sir,  for  all  your 
hectoring  we  shall  meet  you  in  some  other  place,  where  our 
swords  shall  not  hang  all  one  side."  I  answered  I  would 
not  hide  myself.  His  man  followed  him,  and  so  I  stayed 
with  the  two  women.  She  that  had  no  veil  on  looked  to 
be  about  five  and  thirty :  she  returned  me  thanks  in  good 
French,  without  any  mixture  of  Italian,  and  told  me 
among  other  things,  that  if  all  Frenchmen  were  like  me 
the  Italian  women  would  not  scruple  to  live  after  the 
French  fashion.  After  that,  to  reward  the  service  I  had 
done  them,  she  added,  that  since  I  hindered  that  rude 
Frenchman  from  seeing  her  daughter  against  her  will,  it 
was  reasonable  I  should  see  her  of  her  own  accord.  <(  There- 
fore, n  said  she, <(  Leonora,  lift  up  your  veil,  and  let  the  gentle- 
man see  that  we  are  not  altogether  unworthy  of  the  honor 
of  being  under  his  protection.8  She  had  scarce  done  speak- 
ing but  her  daughter  put  aside  her  veil,  or  rather  discovered 
a  sun  which  dazzled  my  eyes.  I  never  beheld  so  beautiful 
an  object  in  my  whole  life.  She  cast  three  or  four  times  her 
eyes  on  me,  as  it  were  by  stealth,  and  as  they  still  met  with 
mine,  the  innocent  blushes  which  overspread  her  face  made 
her  to  look  as  handsome  as  an  angel.  I  perceived  the  mother 
was  very  fond  of  her,  for  she  seemed  to  share  the  pleasure 


54  SCARRON 

I  had  in  gazing  upon  her.  Now  by  reason  I  was  little  used 
to  these  adventures,  and  that  young  people  are  easily 
dashed  out  of  countenance  in  strange  company,  I  made 
them  but  indifferent  compliments  when  they  went  away, 
and  gave  them  perhaps  but  an  indifferent  opinion  of  my 
wit.  I  was  angry  with  myself  for  not  asking  their  habi- 
tation, and  that  I  did  not  offer  to  wait  upon  them  thither  ; 
but  it  was  preposterous  to  run  after  them.  I  went  to  the 
doorkeeper  to  inquire  whether  he  knew  them  ;  but  we  were 
a  long  while  before  we  could  understand  one  another, 
because  he  spoke  no  better  French  than  I  did  Italian.  At 
last,  rather  by  signs  than  otherwise,  he  gave  me  to  under- 
stand that  they  were  unknown  to  him,  at  least  he  would 
not  own  he  knew  them.  I  returned  to  my  Fleming  apothe- 
cary in  a  very  different  disposition  of  mind  from  what  I 
was  in  when  I  came  out ;  that  is  to  say,  very  amorous,  and 
■very  much  in  pain  to  know  whether  that  beautiful  Leonora 
was  a  courtesan  or  an  honest  woman,  and  if  she  had  as 
much  wit  as  her  mother,  who  seemed  to  have  a  great  deal. 
I  abandoned  myself  to  thought,  and  flattered  myself  with  a 
thousand  fair  hopes  which  entertained  me  awhile,  but  dis- 
quieted me  much  more  when  I  considered  the  impossibility 
of  my  wishes.  Having  framed  a  thousand  frivolous  designs, 
I  resolved  at  last  to  seek  them  out,  not  thinking  it  possible 
for  them  to  remain  long  invisible  in  Rome  (which  is  not  a 
populous  city),  especially  to  a  man  so  much  in  love  as  I 
was.  That  very  day  I  looked  for  them  wherever  I  thought 
it  most  likely  to  find  them,  and  returned  home  at  night 
more  tired  and  uneasy  than  I  was  when  I  went  out. 
The  next  day  I  sought  them  still  with  more  diligence,  yet 
did  nothing  but  tire  and  disquiet  myself.  By  my  peeping 
through  the  lattice- windows,  and  my  hasty  running  after  all 
the  women  that  bore  the  least  resemblance  of  my  Leonora, 
I  was  taken  a  hundred  times,  both  in  the  streets  and  in 
the  churches,  for  the  greatest  fool  among  those  Frenchmen 
who  have  contributed  most  to  their  disparaging  their  nation 
at  Rome.  It  is  a  matter  of  wonder  how  I  could  gather 
strength  at  a  time  when  I  suffered  like  one  in  hell.  How- 
ever my  body  recovered,  while  my  sick  mind  remained  so 
divided    betwixt   honor    and  love,  which  kept  me  at  Rome, 


THE   STROLLING  PLAYERS  55 

that  I  often  doubted  whether  I  should  obey  the  frequent 
letters  I  received  from  Vervelle,  who  conjured  me  by  the 
ties  of  friendship  to  come  to  him,  without  using  the  right 
he  had  to  command  me.  At  last  all  my  endeavors  to  find 
out  my  unknown  lady  proving  ineffectual,  I  paid  my  landlord, 
and  got  my  little  equipage  ready  in  order  to  depart.  The 
day  before  I  was  set  out,  Signior  Stephano  Vanberge  (for 
so  was  my  landlord  called)  told  me  he  designed  to  give  me 
a  dinner  at  a  mistress's  house  of  his,  and  at  the  same  time 
make  me  confess  that  he  had  not  made  an  ill-choice  for  a 
Fleming ;  adding,  withal,  that  he  would  not  carry  me  to 
her  before  I  was  to  go  away,  because  he  was  a  little  jealous. 
I  promised  to  wait  on  him  rather  out  of  complaisance  than 
inclination  ;  and  accordingly  we  went  about  dinner-time. 
The  house  we  went  into  had  neither  the  appearance  nor 
furniture  of  an  apothecary's  mistress.  Having  traversed  a 
very  fine  parlor,  we  entered  a  magnificent  room,  where 
we  were  received  by  Leonora  and  her  mother.  You  may 
imagine  how  much  I  was  agreeably  surprised.  The  mother 
of  that  beautiful  daughter  came  toward  me  to  be  saluted 
after  the  French  way  ;  and  I  must  needs  own  that  she 
kissed  me  rather  than  I  her.  I  was  so  amazed  that  I 
scarce  could  see  anything,  neither  did  I  hear  one  word  of 
the  compliment  she  made  me.  At  last  I  recovered  both  my 
senses  and  sight,  and  saw  Leonora  more  beautiful  and 
charming  than  before,  but  had  not  the  assurance  to  salute 
her.  I  was  sensible  of  my  fault  as  soon  as  I  had  commit- 
ted it ;  but  instead  of  repairing  it,  blushed  as  much  out  of 
shame  as  she  did  out  of  modesty.  Her  mother  told  me  she 
designed  to  return  me  thanks  before  I  went  away  for  the 
pains  I  had  taken  to  find  out  their  habitation  ;  and  this 
still  increased  my  confusion.  She  pulled  me  into  an  alcove 
adorned  after  the  French  fashion,  where  her  daughter  did 
not  follow  us,  because,  I  suppose,  she  did  not  think  it  worth 
her  while  to  join  conversation  with  so  dull  a  fellow  as  I 
seemed  to  be.  She  stayed  with  Signior  Stephano,  while 
with  her  mother  I  acted  the  part  of  a  clown  to  the  life. 
She  was  so  civil  to  find  matter  to  keep  up  the  conversation 
herself,  which  she  did  very  ingeniously,  though  nothing 
can  be  more  difficult  than  to  show  one's  wit  with  those  that 


56  SCARRON 

have  none.  For  my  part  I  never  was  such  a  blockhead  in 
my  life  ;  and  if  she  was  not  tired  with  me  then,  she  never 
could  be  with  anybody.  Among  other  things,  to  which  I 
scarce  answered  yes  or  no,  she  told  me  she  was  a  French- 
woman born,  and  that  Signior  Stephano  would  inform  me 
of  the  reasons  which  kept  her  in  Rome.  By  this  time, 
dinner  being  ready,  she  was  fain  to  pull  me  along  to  the 
table  as  she  had  pulled  me  before  to  the  alcove  ;  for  I  was 
so  disordered  that  I  did  not  know  how  to  set  one  foot  be- 
fore the  other.  I  was  the  same  dull  loggerhead  both  before 
and  after  dinner,  during  which  the  only  thing  I  did  with 
assurance  was  to  stare  upon  Leonora.  I  fancy  she  was 
uneasy  at  it,  and  therefore  to  punish  me  for  it  never  lifted 
up  her  eyes  all  the  while.  Had  the  mother  been  silent 
the  dinner  had  been  like  a  Carthusian  meal ;  but  she 
discoursed  with  Signior  Stephano  about  the  affairs  of 
Rome,  at  least  I  fancy  so,  for  I  am  not  very  sure  of  it. 
At  last  we  rose  from  table,  to  the  great  comfort  of  every- 
body, except  myself,  whose  distemper  grew  worse  and 
worse  every  moment.  When  we  went  to  take  our  leave 
they  said  a  thousand  obliging  things  to  me,  which  I  only 
answered  with  the  ordinary  compliments  used  at  the 
bottom  of  a  letter.  However  I  did  something  more  at 
parting  than  I  did  when  I  came  in  ;  for  I  saluted  Leonora, 
and  by  that  means  completed  my  ruin.  Stephano  was  not 
able  to  get  one  single  word  from  me  all  the  way  home.  I 
locked  myself  up  in  my  room  without  pulling  off  either 
my  cloak  or  sword.  There  I  revolved  in  my  mind  what- 
ever had  happened  to  me.  Leonora  presented  herself  to 
ray  fancy  more  beautiful  than  ever  she  had  appeared  to 
my  sight.  I  remembered  how  dull  and  silly  I  was  before 
the  mother  and  the  daughter  ;  and  as  often  as  I  thought 
of  it  was  so  ashamed,  that  I  could  not  forbear  blushing. 
I  wished  to  be  rich,  cursed  my  mean  extraction,  and  then 
fancied  to  myself  a  thousand  lucky  adventures,  advan- 
tageous both  to  my  fortune  and  love.  At  last,  having 
nothing  in  my  thoughts  but  how  to  frame  a  plausible  pre- 
tense to  stay,  and  not  finding  any  to  my  liking,  I  grew  so 
desperate  as  to  wish  to  fall  sick  again,  to  which  I  had 
already    no    small     disposition.      I    designed     to     write    to 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  57 

Leonora ;  but  all  my  pen  could  produce  did  not  please 
me,  and  so  I  put  into  my  pocket  the  beginning  of  a  letter, 
which  perhaps  I  had  not  dared  to  send  had  it  been 
finished.  Thus  having  disquieted  myself  to  little  purpose, 
and  not  being  able  to  banish  Leonora  from  my  thoughts, 
I  resolved  to  go  by  the  vine  where  she  appeared  to  me 
first,  to  abandon  myself  entirely  to  my  passion,  and  pass 
by  her  door  once  for  all.  This  vine  was  well  situated  in 
one  of  the  remotest  parts  of  the  city,  and  in  the  midst  of 
several  old  uninhabited  buildings.  As  I  passed  along, 
pensive  and  melancholy,  under  the  ruins  of  a  portico,  I 
heard  somebody  stalk  behind  me,  and  at  the  same  time 
felt  myself  run  through  under  the  reins.  I  presently  faced 
about,  and  instantly  drew  my  sword ;  and  finding  I  had  to 
do  with  the  servant  of  the  young  Frenchman  I  mentioned 
before,  I  was  like  to  return  him  at  least  as  good  a  pass  as 
he  had  made  at  me  by  treachery  :  but  as  I  pushed  at  him 
without  being  able  to  close  with  him,  because  he  main- 
tained a  running  fight,  and  endeavored  to  parry,  his  mas- 
ter came  out  from  among  the  ruins  of  the  portico,  and 
attacking  me  behind,  dealt  me  such  a  stunning  blow  on' 
the  head,  and  a  great  thrust  in  the  thigh,  as  made  me  to 
fall  down.  There  was  no  likelihood  of  my  escaping  at  so 
cheap  a  rate ;  but  because  in  an  ill  action  people  seldom 
preserve  a  presence  of  mind,  the  servant  wounded  his  mas- 
ter in  the  right  hand  ;  and  at  the  same  time  two  Minime 
friars  of  the  Trinity  of  the  Mount  passing  by,  and  seeing 
me  treacherously  assaulted,  ran  to  my  assistance ;  where- 
upon my  assassins  made  their  escape,  and  left  me  wounded 
in  three  several  places.  Those  good  friars  happened  to 
be  Frenchmen,  to  my  great  comfort ;  for  in  so  remote  a 
place,  had  an  Italian  seen  me  in  the  condition  I  was  in, 
he  would  rather  have  avoided  than  succored  me,  lest 
being  found  doing  me  a  good  office  he  were  suspected 
of  being  himself  my  murderer.  While  one  of  these 
charitable  friars  received  my  confession,  the  other  ran  to 
my  lodging  to  acquaint  my  landlord  with  my  disaster. 
He  came  instantly  to  me,  and  caused  me  to  be  carried, 
half -dead,  to  my  bed.  With  so  many  wounds,  and  so 
much  love,   it    was    no    wonder    if    I    soon    fell   into  a  most 


58  SCARRON 

violent  fever.  My  life  was  despaired  of  by  all,  and  I  had 
no  reason  to  hope  better  than  the  rest.  In  the  meantime 
my  passion  for  Leonora  was  so  far  from  abating  that  it 
was  rather  increased,  though  my  strength  grew  still 
weaker  and  weaker.  Wherefore,  not  being  able  to  support 
so  heavy  a  burden,  without  easing  myself  vof  it,  nor  re- 
solved to  die  without  letting  Leonora  know  that  it  was 
for  her  sake  only  that  I  wished  to  live,  I  called  for  a  pen 
and  ink.  They  thought  I  was  light-headed  ;  but  I  was  so 
earnest  in  protesting  that  they  would  drive  me  into  despair 
in  case  they  should  deny  me  what  I  requested,  that  Signior 
Stephano,  who  had  taken  notice  of  my  passion,  and  was  so 
clear-sighted  as  to  guess  at  my  design,  gave  orders  that  I 
should  have  all  things  necessary  to  write ;  and  as  he  knew 
my  intention,  he  stayed  all  alone  in  the  room.  I  perused 
what  I  had  scribbled  a  little  before,  with  design  to  make 
use  of  some  thoughts  which  came  then  into  my  head  upon 
the  same  subject,  and  then  wrote  thus  to  Leonora  : 

®I  no  sooner  saw  you,  but  it  was  out  of  my  power  to 
forbear  loving  you ;  my  reason  did  not  oppose  my  passion, 
but  told  me,  as  well  as  my  eyes,  that  you  were  the  most 
lovely  person  in  the  world ;  whereas  it  should  have  repre- 
sented to  me  how  unworthy  I  was  of  your  heart.  How- 
ever, that  would  have  served  only  to  exasperate  my  disease 
with  unprofitable  remedies,  and  after  having  struggled  a 
while,  I  must  at  last  have  yielded  to  the  irresistible 
necessity  of  loving  you,  which  you  impose  on  all  that  see 
you.  Well,  I  love  you,  my  charming  Leonora,  but  with  so 
much  respect,  that  you  ought  not  to  hate  me  for  it, 
although  I  have  the  boldness  to  discover  it  to  you.  But 
how  is  it  possible  to  die  for  you  without  boasting  of  it? 
And  how  can  you  refuse  to  pardon  a  crime  with  which 
you  can  not  reproach  me  long?  I  own  your  being  the 
cause  of  a  man's  death  is  recompense  not  to  be  merited  but 
by  a  great  number  of  services,  and  you  will  perhaps  envy 
me  a  happiness  which  you  procure  me  without  design. 
But  do  not  grudge  it  me,  lovely  Leonora,  since  it  is 
no  more  in  your  power  to  make  me  lose  it,  and  that  it 
is  the  only  favor    I    ever    received    from    fortune,  who  will 


THE   STROLLING  PLAYERS  59 

never  sufficiently  reward  your  merit,  but  by  procuring  you 
adorers  as  much  above  me  as  all  other  beauties  in  the 
world  are  below  yours.  Therefore  I  am  not  so  vain  as  to 
think  that  you  will  bestow  the  least  sentiment  of  pity 
on » 

I  was  not  able  to  make  an  end  of  my  letter ;  my  strength 
failed  me  on  the  sudden  ;  the  pen  fell  from  my  hand,  for 
my  mind  went  so  fast,  that  my  body  could  not  keep  pace 
with  it ;  else  that  long  beginning  you  have  heard  had  been 
but  a  small  part  of  my  letter  ;  so  much  was  my  imagination 
warmed  by  my  fever  and  my  love.  I  was  a  long  time  in  a 
fainting  fit  without  giving  the  least  sign  of  life,  which 
Signior  Stephano  perceiving,  he  opened  the  chamber-door 
to  send  for  a  priest.  At  that  very  moment  Leonora  and 
her  mother  came  to  visit  me,  having,  it  seems,  been 
informed  of  my  being  wounded.  Now  as  they  thought 
this  accident  befell  me  upon  their  account,  and  for 
that  reason  that  they  were  the  innocent  cause  of  my  death, 
they  did  not  scruple  to  come  to  see  me  in  the  condition 
I  was  in.  My  trance  lasted  so  long  that  they  went  away 
before  I  was  come  to  myself,  very  much  afflicted,  as 
one  may  imagine,  and  fully  persuaded  that  I  would  never 
recover.  They  read  what  I  had  been  writing;  and 
the  mother  being  more  curious  than  the  daughter, 
perused  also  the  papers  I  had  left  on  the  bed ;  among 
which  there  was  a  letter  from  my  father.  I  was  a 
long  time  struggling  betwixt  life  and  death  ;  but  at  length 
youth  getting  the  upper  hand,  in  a  fortnight's  time  I  was 
out  of  danger :  and  in  five  weeks'  time  began  to  walk  about 
the  room.  My  landlord  entertained  me  often  about 
Leonora.  He  acquainted  me  with  the  charitable  visit  she 
and  her  mother  had  made  me,  at  which  I  was  overjoyed : 
and  if  I  was  a  little  troubled  at  their  reading  my  father's 
letter,  I  was  highly  pleased  that  my  own  had  been  read 
also.  As  often  as  I  happened  to  be  alone  with  Stephano 
I  could  talk  of  nothing  but  Leonora.  One  day  calling  to 
mind  what  her  mother  told  me,  that  he  could  inform  me 
who  she  was,  and  what  reasons  obliged  her  to  stay  in  Rome, 
I  desired  him   to   acquaint   me  with  what   he   knew  of  the 


60  SCARRON 

matter.  He  acquainted  me  that  she  came  to  Rome  with 
the  French  ambassador's  lady  ;  that  a  man  of  quality,  a  near 
relation  of  the  ambassador's,  had  fallen  in  love  with  her ; 
that  in  time  she  loved  him  too,  and  that,  being  married 
clandestinely,  she  had  the  beautiful  Leonora  by  him.  He 
informed  me  likewise  that  that  nobleman  had  fallen  out  with 
all  his  relations  upon  this  account,  which  obliged  him  to 
leave  Rome  and  go  to  Venice  with  Madame  la  Boissiere  (for 
this  was  her  name)  till  the  time  of  the  embassy  should  be 
expired  ;  that  having  brought  her  back  to  Rome,  he  fur- 
nished her  a  house,  and  gave  her  all  necessaries  to  live  like 
a  person  of  quality  while  he  stayed  in  France,  whither  his 
father  had  called  him  back,  and  whither  he  durst  not  carry 
his  mistress,  or,  if  you  please,  his  wife,  well  knowing  that 
none  of  his  relations  would  approve  his  match.  I  must 
confess  I  could  not  sometimes  forbear  wishing  that  Leonora 
were  not  the  legitimate  daughter  of  a  person  of  quality,  that 
the  blemish  of  her  birth  might  excuse  the  meanness  of  mine  ; 
but  however  I  soon  repented  so  criminal  a  thought,  and 
wished  her  fortune  answerable  to  her  merit.  This  last 
thought  cast  me  into  despair ;  for  as  I  loved  her  more  than 
my  life,  I  plainly  foresaw  that  I  could  never  be  happy 
without  enjoying  her,  nor  enjoy  her  without  making  her 
unhappy.  When  I  began  to  recover,  and  that  there  was  no 
other  remains  of  my  distemper  than  a  great  paleness  in  my 
cheeks,  occasioned  by  the  vast  quantity  of  blood  I  had  lost, 
my  young  masters  returned  from  the  Venetian  army,  the 
plague  which  infected  all  the  Levant  not  suffering  them  to 
signalize  their  courage  there  any  longer.  Vervelle  had  still 
the  same  affection  he  ever  had  for  me,  and  Saint  Far  did  not 
yet  show  he  hated  me,  as  he  has  done  since.  I  recounted 
to  them  all  ni3r  adventures  except  my  falling  in  love  with 
Leonora  ;  both  expressed  a  great  desire  of  being  acquainted 
with  her,  which  my  exaggerating  the  merit  both  of  the 
mother  and  the  daughter  increased.  A  man  ought  never 
to  commend  the  person  he  loves  before  those  who  may  love 
her  also,  since  love  enters  at  the  ears  as  well  as  the  eyes. 
This  folly  has  often  been  pernicious  to  those  who  have  been 
guilty  of  it,  which  my  own  experience  will  justify,  as  you 
shall    see    anon.     Saint    Far    asked  me   every    day    when    I 


THE   STROLLING  PLAYERS  61 

designed  to  carry  him  to  Madame  la  Boissiere.  One  day,  when 
he  was  more  pressing  than  ordinary,  I  answered  I  could  not 
tell  whether  she  would  admit  of  his  visit  or  not,  because 
she  lived  very  retired.  "Nay,"  replied  he,  <(  I  now  plainly 
see  you  are  in  love  with  her  daughter  ;  •  and  adding  he 
knew  how  to  go  see  her  without  me,  after  a  very  blunt  man- 
ner. I  was  so  daunted,  that  he  then  firmly  believed  what 
he  barely  suspected  before.  Afterward  he  passed  a  hun- 
dred silly  jests  upon  me,  and  dashed  me  so  out  of  coun- 
tenance, that  Vervelle  pitied  me.  He  took  me  away  from 
his  unmannerly  brother,  and  carried  me  to  the  boulevard, 
where  I  was  extremely  melancholy,  though  Vervelle,  out 
of  a  kindness  extraordinary  in  a  person  of  his  age,  and  so 
much  above  me  by  his  quality,  used  all  possible  means  to 
divert  me.  In  the  meantime,  the  ill-natured  Saint  Far  en- 
deavored to  satisfy  himself,  or  rather  to  ruin  me.  He  went 
straight  to  Madame  la  Boissiere,  where  they  took  him  at 
first  for  me,  because  he  had  my  landlord's  servant  with  him, 
who  had  often  accompanied  me  thither  ;  but  had  it  not  been 
for  that,  I  believe  he  never  had  been  admitted.  Madame 
la  Bossi&re  was  very  much  surprised  to  see  a  man  she  did 
not  know.  She  told  Saint  Far  she  could  not  imagine  upon 
what  score  a  stranger  did  her  the  honor  of  a  visit.  Saint 
Far  replied  very  humbly  that  he  was  the  master  of  a  young 
fellow  who  was  so  happy  as  to  be  wounded  in  her  service. 
Having  begun  his  compliment  with  an  account,  which, 
as  I  was  informed  since,  pleased  neither  the  mother  nor  the 
daughter,  and  these  two  ingenuous  persons  being  unwilling 
to  hazard  the  reputation  of  their  wit  with  a  person  who  at 
first  dash  discovered  he  had  little,  the  rude  impertinent  was 
meanly  diverted  by  them,  and  they  very  much  tired  with 
him.  But  what  made  him  almost  mad  was  his  being  de- 
nied the  satisfaction  of  seeing  Leonora's  face,  though  he 
had  begged  her  a  thousand  times  to  lift  up  the  veil  she 
commonly  wore,  as  all  unmarried  ladies  do  at  Rome.  At 
last  this  accomplished  courtier,  being  tired  with  tiring  of 
them,  rid  them  of  his  troublesome  visit,  and  returned  to 
Signior  Stephano's  with  little  advantage  from  the  ill  office 
he  had  done  me.  Ever  since  that  time,  as  it  is  ordinary 
with    ill-natured     people    to    hate     those    whom    they   have 


6»  SCARRON 

injured,  he  despised  me  to  that  degree,  and  disobliged  me  so 
often,  that  I  had  a  hundred  times  forgot  the  respect  I  owed 
to  his  quality  if  Vervelle,  by  his  constant  friendship  and 
repeated  kindnesses,  had  not  made  me  amends  for  his 
brother's  brutality.  I  was  not  yet  acquainted  with  the  ill 
office  he  had  done  me,  though  I  often  felt  the  effects  of  it. 
I  found  indeed,  Madame  la  Boissiere  more  reserved  to  me 
than  when  we  were  first  acquainted ;  but  being  still  as  civil 
as  before,  I  did  not  take  notice  of  my  being  troublesome. 
As  for  Leonora,  she  appeared  very  thoughtful  before  her 
mother ;  but  when  not  observed  by  her,  methought  she  was 
not  so  melancholy,  and  cast  on  me  more  favorable  looks 
than  I  could  have  expected. 

Destiny  was  thus  relating  his  story,  and  the  actresses 
listening  very  attentively,  without  showing  the  least  incli- 
nation to  sleep,  when  they  heard  the  clock  strike  two  (in 
the  morning).  Mrs.  Cave  put  Destiny  in  mind  that  the 
next  day  he  was  to  accompany  Monsieur  la  Rappiniere  to 
a  house  about  two  or  three  leagues  out  of  town,  where 
he  promised  to  give  them  the  diversion  of  hunting.  This 
made  Destiny  take  his  leave  of  the  players  and  retire  to  his 
own  chamber,  where  in  all  probability  he  went  to  bed. 
The  other  players  did  the  same,  and  the  remaining  part  of 
the  night  was  spent  in  quiet :  the  poet,  as  luck  would  have 
it,  having  made  no  new  stanzas  to  disturb  the  general 
repose. 


SOME    REFLECTIONS    WHICH    ARE    NOT    AMISS. 

RAGOTIN'S   NEW  DISGRACE,    AND 

OTHER     THINGS 

Love,  which  makes  the  young  to  undertake  anything  and 
the  old  to  forget  everything ;  love,  which  occasioned  the 
wars  of  Troy,  and  many  others  besides,  which  I  do  not 
think  worth  while  to  mention  here,  would  needs  make  it 
known  in  the  city  of  Mans  that  he  is  as  much  to  be 
dreaded  in  a  pitiful  inn  as  in  the  brightest  palace  whatso- 
ever.    He  was    not   therefore   contented   with  depriving  the 


THE  STROLLING  PLAYERS  63 

amorous  Ragotin  of  his  appetite,  but  likewise  inspired  La 
Rappiniere  with  a  thousand  irregular  desires,  a  man  very 
susceptible  of  them,  and  made  Roquebrune  likewise  to 
languish  for  the  operator's  wife,  adding  a  fourth  folly  to  his 
vanity,  bravery,  and  poetry ;  or  rather  obliging  him  to 
commit  a  double  infidelity ;  for  he  had  made  his  amorous 
addresses  a  long  while  before,  both  to  Star  and  Angelica, 
who  often  advised  him  to  desist,  and  not  throw  away  his 
courtship.  But  all  this  is  nothing  to  what  I  shall  now 
relate ;  love  triumphed  likewise  over  the  insensibility  and 
misanthropy  of  Rancour,  who  became  enamored  of  the 
operator's  wife  too,  and  by  consequence  a  rival  to  the  poet 
Roquebrune,  a  punishment  for  his  sins,  and  an  atonement 
for  the  cursed  writings  he  had  published.  This  woman's 
name  was  Donna  Inezilla  del  Prado,  a  native  of  Malaga, 
and  her  husband,  or  he  that  was  reputed  such,  Signior 
Ferdinando  Ferdinandi,  a  gentleman  of  Venice,  born  at 
Caen  in  Normandy.  There  were  several  others  in  the  inn 
besides  the  above  named,  who  were  infected  with  the  same 
disease,  as  dangerously,  if  not  more  than  those  whose 
secrets  I  have  revealed  ;  but  they  shall  be  discovered  too  in 
due  time  and  place.  La  Rappiniere  fell  in  love  with 
Madam  Star  when  she  acted  Climene,  and  intended  then  to 
have  declared  his  distemper  to  Rancour,  whom  he  thought 
capable  of  doing  anything  for  money.  The  heavenly  bard 
Roquebrune  designed  the  conquest  of  a  Spanish  lady 
worthy  his  courage.  But  as  for  Rancour,  I  cannot  im- 
agine by  what  potent  charms  this  foreign  lady  could  in- 
flame the  heart  of  one  with  love,  who  hated  all  the  world. 
This  worn-out  stroller,  being  in  hell  before  his  time,  I 
mean  in  love  before  his  death,  was  still  in  bed  when  Rago- 
tin, troubled  with  his  passion,  as  it  were  the  bellyache, 
came  to  desire  him  to  mind  his  business  and  take  pity  on 
him.  Rancour  assured  him,  that  ere  that  day  were  over, 
he  would  do  him  a  notable  piece  of  service  with  his 
mistress.  La  Rappiniere  entered  Rancour's  chamber  at  the 
same  time,  who  was  still  dressing  himself.  Having  taken 
him  aside,  he  confessed  his  infirmity  to  him,  and  vowed, 
that  if  he  could  bring  him  into  favor  with  Madam  Star, 
there  was  nothing  in  his  power,  but  he  would  do  for   him, 


64  SCARRON 

even  to  the  making  him  one  of  his  assistants,  and  bestow- 
ing his  niece  in  marriage  on  him,  whom  he  designed  to 
make  sole  heiress  after  his  death,  because  he  had  no  chil- 
dren of  his  own. 

The  cheating  rogue  promised  him  yet  more  than  he  had 
done  Ragotin,  which  put  this  hangman's  purveyor  in  good 
hopes.  Roquebrune  came  likewise  to  consult  the  same 
oracle.  He  was  the  most  incorrigible,  presumptuous  cox- 
comb that  ever  came  from  the  banks  of  Garonne,  and  one 
who  thought  everybody  believed  what  he  romanced  about 
his  good  family,  riches,  poetry,  and  valor,  insomuch  that 
he  slighted  all  the  dry  jests  and  bobs  that  Rancour  per- 
petually cast  at  him,  presuming  that  what  he  did  was  only 
for  conversation's  sake ;  and  besides,  he  understood  raillery 
as  well  as  any  man  alive,  and  bore  it  like  a  Christian 
philosopher,  even  when  it  touched  to  the  very  quick.  He 
therefore  imagined  he  was  admired  by  all  the  players,  nay, 
even  by  Rancour  himself,  who  had  experience  enough  to 
admire  but  few  thingss  and  was  so  far  from  having  a  good 
opinion  of  this  poor  brother  of  the  quill  that  he  made  a 
full  inquiry  into  his  extraction,  thereby  to  discover  whether 
those  bishops  and  great  lords,  his  countrymen,  whom  he 
quoted  ever  and  ancn  for  his  relations,  were  the  true 
branches  of  that  genealogic  tree,  this  fool  of  noble  alliances 
and  coats  of  arms,  together  with  many  other  things,  had 
caused  to  be  drawn  in  an  old  roll  of  parchment.  He  was 
very  sorry  to  find  Rancour  in  company,  though  he  had  less 
need  to  be  troubled  at  that  time  than  any  one  besides,  it 
being  his  ill  custom  to  be  ever  whispering  in  people's  ears, 
and  to  make  a  secret  of  everything,  sometimes  of  nothing. 
However,  he  took  Rancour  in  a  corner,  and  at  first  very 
gravely  desired  to  know  whether  the  operator's  wife  was  a 
person  of  a  great  deal  of  wit  or  not,  because  he  had  loved 
women  of  all  nations  but  Spaniards,  and  if  she  were  worth 
his  labor  he  should  not  be  much  the  poorer  if  he  presented 
her  with  a  hundred  pistoles,  which  he  as  often  mentioned 
upon  every  trilling  occasion  as  the  great  family  from 
whence  he  was  descended.  Rancour  told  him  he  was  not 
so  well  acquainted  with  Donna  Inezilla,  as  to  answer  for 
her    wit,    though    he    had   often    met    her   husband    in    the 


THE   STROLLING  PLAYERS  65 

chiefest  cities  of  the  kingdom,  where  he  sold  his  antidotes ; 
but  if  he  desired  so  much  to  be  informed  about  it,  it  was 
but  joining  conversation  with  her,  since  she  began  to  speak 
French  tolerably  well,  and  he  might  soon  be  satisfied. 
Roquebrune  would  needs  entrust  him  with  his  pedigree  in 
parchment,  that  he  might  dazzle  the  Spanish  Donna  with 
the  splendor  of  his  race  ;  but  Rancour  told  him  his  pedi- 
gree would  sooner  make  him  a  Knight  of  Malta  than  a 
happy  lover.  Whereupon  Roquebrune  with  a  smiling  coun- 
tenance added,   (<Well,  Sir,  you  know  what  I  am.* 

<(  Yes,  •  replied  Rancour,  <(  I  know  well  enough  what  you 
are  now,  and  what  you  will  ever  be,  to   your   dying  day.w 

The  poet  went  away  as  he  came,  and  Rancour,  his 
rival  and  confidant  at  the  same  time,  drew  near  to  La 
Rappiniere  and  Ragotin,  who  were  rivals  also,  though 
unknown  to  each  other.  As  for  old  Rancour,  besides  that 
we  naturally  hate  any  one  that  endeavors  to  rob  us  of 
what  we  design  for  ourselves,  and  the  general  quarrel  he 
had  against  all  mankind  ;  besides  all  this,  I  say,  he  ever 
had  a  particular  aversion  to  the  poet,  which  this  discovery 
was  not  likely  to  abate.  Rancour  therefore  absolutely 
resolved,  from  that  time  forward,  to  do  him  all  the 
mischief  he  possibly  could,  to  which  moreover  his  apish 
nature  prompted  him,  and  fitted  him  for  it.  And  not  to 
lose  time,  he  began  that  very  day,  by  basely  borrowing 
money  of  him,  wherewith  he  new  clothed  himself  from  top 
to  toe,  and  besides  stocked  himself  well  with  linen.  He 
had  before  been  a  sloven  all  his  lifetime ;  but  love,  which 
works  far  greater  miracles  than  anything  else,  now  made 
him  more  curious  of  his  dress  in  his  declining  days.  In 
a  word  he  changed  his  linen  oftener  than  became  a 
stroller,  and  began  to  wash,  powder,  and  color  his  gray 
hair,  and  likewise  to  trim  himself  so  carefully,  that  his 
comrades  took  notice  of  it.  The  players  had  that  day  a 
play  bespoke,  as  one  of  the  chiefest  citizens  of  Mans,  who 
made  a  great  treat,  and  gave  a  ball  at  his  niece's  wedding, 
whose  guardian  he  had  been.  The  nuptials  were  kept  at 
a  very  fair  country-house  of  his,  about  a  league  from  the 
city ;  but  whether  eastward,  westward,  northward  or 
southward,  I  cannot  tell.  The  decorator  belonging  to 
5 


66  SCARRON 

the  strollers,  and  a  carpenter  were  sent  in  the  morning 
early  to  erect  a  stage.  The  whole  company  of  players 
followed  in  two  coaches,  about  eleven  o'clock,  that  they 
might  get  thither  by  dinner-time.  Donna  Inezilla,  the 
Spanish  lady,  made  one,  at  the  earnest  entreaty  of  the 
actresses  and  Rancour.  Ragotin  being  informed  of  the 
business,  went  to  an  inn  at  the  end  of  the  suburb,  where 
he  waited  the  coming  of  the  coaches,  and  tied  a  very  fine 
steed  which  he  had  borrowed,  to  the  grate  of  the  parlor 
that  looked  into  the  street.  He  was  scarce  sat  down  to 
dinner,  when  word  was  brought  him,  that  the  coach  was 
in  sight.  He  flew  to  his  horse  on  the  wings  of  love,  with 
a  great  sword  by  his  side,  and  a  carabine  dangling  at  his 
breech  like  a  bandoleer.  He  would  never  confess  what 
his  fancy  was,  to  go  to  a  wedding  with  such  store  of 
offensive  and  defensive  weapons ;  neither  could  Rancour 
his  confidant  ever  persuade  him  to  discover  it.  By  that 
time  he  had  untied  his  horse's  bridle,  the  coaches  were  so 
near,  that  he  had  not  time  to  look  for  a  jossing-block, 
that  he  might  appear  in  state  on  his  steed  like  pretty 
Saint  George.  And  being  none  of  the  best  horsemen,  and 
unprepared  to  show  his  nimble  disposition,  he  did  it  but 
very  awkwardly  ;  for  his  horse's  legs  were  as  much  too  long, 
as  his  were  too  short.  However,  he  stoutly  reared  himself 
in  the  stirrup,  and  threw  his  right  leg  over  the  saddle ;  but 
the  girths  being  loose,  it  occasioned  a  strange  disaster  ;  for 
this  made  the  saddle  to  turn  round,  while  he  was  bestriding 
the  steed.  Yet  all  things  went  hitherto  well  enough,  but 
the  cursed  carabine  which  hung  on  a  belt  about  his  neck 
like  a  collar,  got  so  unfortunately  betwixt  his  legs  before 
he  was  aware,  that  his  breech  could  not  reach  his  saddle, 
which  was  an  old-fashioned  one,  the  carabine  lying  across 
from  the  pummel  to  the  crupper.  Thus  he  sat  in  a  very 
uneasy  posture,  as  not  being  able  with  the  tip  of  his  toe  so 
much  as  to  touch  the  stirrups.  Therefore  his  heels  being 
armed  with  spurs,  he  kicked  the  horse's  side  in  a  place  he 
was  never  used  to  be  pricked  in,  which  made  him  to  start 
more  briskly  than  was  necessary  for  a  little  rider  in  that 
posture,  having  nothing  but  the  carabine  to  rest  upon. 
This  made  him  to  cling  his  legs  close  to  the  horse's  sides, 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  67 

which  made  the  horse  to  fling  up  his  hinder  legs  ;  when 
Ragotin  following  the  nature  of  all  heavy  bodies,  fell  into 
the  horse's  neck,  whereby  he  got  a  bruised  nose,  the 
steed  lifting  up  his  head  suddenly  at  a  jerk  he  gave  him 
with  the  bridle  very  preposterously.  Now  thinking  to  re- 
pair his  oversight,  he  let  go  the  reins ;  but  giving  the 
horse  his  head,  he  at  that  very  instant  gave  such  a  great 
leap,  and  cast  his  rider  quite  over  the  saddle  upon  the 
crupper,  with  the  carabine  still  between  his  legs.  The 
horse  not  being  used  to  carry  anything  behind  makes  a 
croupade,  which  places  Ragotin  in  the  saddle  again.  The 
unskilled  horseman  clapped  his  heels  close  to  his  sides 
afresh,  and  then  the  horse  flung  up  his  hinder  legs  more 
than  at  first,  which  pitched  the  unfortunate  Ragotin  just 
upon  the  pummel,  where  we  must  leave  him  as  on  a  pin- 
nacle to  rest  ourselves  a  while ;  for  upon  the  honor  of  a 
gentleman  this  description  has  cost  me  more  pains,  than  all 
the  book  besides,  and  yet  I  am  not  well  satisfied  with  it 
neither. 


RAGOTIN' S    FALL    OFF   HIS    HORSE,   AND    SOME- 
THING  OF  THE  LIKE  NATURE  WHICH 
HAPPENED  TO  ROQUEBRUNE 

WE  LEFT  Ragotin  planted  on  the  pummel  of  a  saddle, 
not  knowing  how  to  behave  himself,  and  much  per- 
plexed how  he  should  get  off.  I  scarce  believe  the 
defunct  Phaeton,  of  unhappy  memory,  was  ever  more 
troubled  with  his  father's  four  fiery  steeds,  than  was  at  this 
time  our  little  lawyer,  with  this  one  tit,  on  which  he  never- 
theless sat  as  quiet  as  a  lamb.  That  it  did  not  cost  him  his 
life,  as  it  did  Phaeton,  he  was  beholden  to  Fortune,  whose 
caprices  would  be  a  fit  subject  for  me  to  expatiate  on,  were 
I  not  in  conscience  obliged  to  release  Ragotin  from  the  im- 
minent danger  he  is  in,  having  besides  many  more  things  to 
treat  of  concerning  our  strollers,  during  their  residence  at 
Mans.  As  soon  as  the  disastrous  Ragotin  felt  what  an  uneasy 
cushion  he  had  under  the  two  most  fleshy  parts  of  his  body, 


68  SCARRON 

on  which  he  used  to  sit,  as  all  other  rational  creatures  are 
won't ;  I  mean,  as  soon  as  he  found  how  narrow  his  seat  was, 
he  quitted  the  briddle  like  a  man  of  discretion,  and  laid  hold 
of  the  horse's  mane,  who  at  the  same  time  ran  away  full  speed. 
Thereupon  the  carabine  went  off.  Ragotin  thought  he  had 
been  shot,  his  horse  undoubtedly  believed  the  same,  and 
therefore  made  such  a  foul  stumble,  that  the  little  man  lost 
his  seat ;  insomuch,  that  for  a  time,  he  hung  by  the  horse's 
mane,  with  one  foot  entangled  by  his  spur  in  the  saddle- 
cloth, and  the  other,  with  the  rest  of  his  body,  hanging 
dangling  toward  the  earth  in  expectation  of  a  fall,  as  soon 
as  his  spur  should  break  loose ;  together  with  his  sword, 
carabine,  and  bandoleer.  At  length  his  foot  being  disen- 
gaged, his  hands  let  go  the  mane,  and  down  he  tumbled, 
though  with  more  grace  and  skill  than  he  had  got  up.  All 
this  happened  in  sight  of  the  coaches,  that  stopped  on  pur- 
pose to  see  what  would  become  of  him ;  or  rather  to  have 
the  pleasure  of  laughing  at  him.  He  cursed  the  horse,  who 
stood  still,  as  soon  as  he  had  laid  down  his  load.  But  to 
comfort  him,  they  took  him  into  one  of  the  coaches  in  the 
poet's  room,  who  was  willing  to  ride,  that  he  might  flutter 
about  the  coach,  and  court  Inezilla,  who  sat  in  the  boot. 
Ragotin  resigned  his  sword  and  fire-arms  to  him,  which  he 
put  on  as  dexterously  as  any  son  of  Mars  could  have  done. 
He  lengthened  his  stirrups,  fitted  the  bridle,  and  without 
doubt  went  to  get  up  more  methodically  than  Ragotin  had 
done.  But  surely  there  had  some  spell  been  cast  upon  that 
uulucky  horse  that  day,  for  the  saddle  being  too  loosely 
girted,  as  before,  turned  round  with  the  poet,  as  it  had  done 
with  Ragotin ;  and  the  string  of  his  breeches  breaking,  the 
horse  ran  a  pretty  way  with  him,  while  he  had  but  one 
foot  in  the  stirrup,  his  other  serving  the  beast  as  a  fifth 
leg  whereby  his  back-parts  became  exposed  to  all  the  com- 
pany, his  breeches  dangling  all  the  way  about  his  heels. 
None  of  the  spectators  laughed  much  at  Ragotin's  mishap, 
because  they  were  afraid  he  would  hurt  himself,  but  Roque- 
brune's  accident  was  attended  with  loud  shouts  and  laughter 
from  the  coaches.  The  coachmen  stopped  to  laugh  their 
bellies  full,  and  altogether  halloaed  at  Roquebrune,  which 
drove   him,    having   disengaged    himself,    into    a   house   for 


THE   STROLLING  PLAYERS  69 

shelter,  leaving  the  horse  to  his  own  discretion,  who  very 
wisely  trotted  back  again  to  town.  Ragotiu,  knowing  he 
was  responsible  for  the  beast,  alighted  out  of  the  coach  and 
went  after  him ;  when  the  poet  having  cased  up  his  pos- 
teriors, returned  to  the  coach  much  troubled,  and  no  less 
troublesome  to  the  company  by  Ragotin's  martial  equipage, 
who  had  undergone  this  third  disgrace  in  his  mistress's 
presence. 


A   CONTINUATION    WHICH   PERHAPS    WILL   NOT 
BE  FOUND  VERY  ENTERTAINING 

The  players  were  very  well  received  by  the  master  of 
the  house,  who  was  a  good,  honest  man,  and  one  of 
the  most  considerable  in  those  parts.  They  had  two 
chambers  allotted  them  to  lay  their  clothes  in  and  make 
themselves  ready  for  the  play,  which  was  put  off  till  after 
supper.  They  dined  in  private,  and  after  dinner,  those  that 
had  a  mind  to  walk,  had  the  choice  of  a  grove  and  a  fine 
garden  to  do  it  in.  A  young  counselor  of  the  Parliament 
of  Rennes,  and  near  kinsman  to  the  master  of  the  house, 
accosted  our  players,  having  discovered  Destiny  to  be  a 
person  of  more  than  vulgar  judgment,  and  the  actresses, 
besides  their  great  beauty,  to  be  such  as  could  say  more 
than  just  the  parts  they  had  learned  by  heart.  They  dis- 
coursed of  matters  relating  to  their  profession,  as  plays, 
dramatic  writers,  etc.  This  young  counselor  said  among 
other  things,  that  there  was  scarce  any  remarkable  subject 
for  the  stage,  that  had  not  been  blown  upon  ;  that  all  his- 
tory was  almost  exhausted,  and  that  modern  authors 
would  at  last  be  constrained  to  waive  those  nice  rules  of 
unity  of  time,  and  stretch  it  beyond  four  and  twenty  hours ; 
that  the  generality  of  people  did  not  apprehend  what  those 
severe  rules  of  the  stage  were  good  for,  being  rather  pleased 
with  action  and  representation  than  recitals  ;  and  therefore 
such  plots  might  be  contrived  as  would  meet  with  applause, 
without  either  falling  into  the  extravagances  of  the  Span- 
iards, or  being  tied  up  to  the    strict    precepts   of   Aristotle. 


70  SCARRON 

From  plays,  they  proceeded  to  talk  of  romances.  The 
counselor  said  that  nothing  could  be  more  diverting  than 
our  modern  romances ;  that  the  French  alone  knew  how  to 
write  good  ones ;  however,  that  the  Spaniards  had  a  pecul- 
iar talent  to  compose  little  stories,  which  they  called 
Novelas,  which  are  more  useful,  and  more  probable  patterns 
for  us  to  follow,  than  those  imaginary  heroes  of  antiquity, 
who  grow  oftentimes  tedious  and  troublesome,  by  being 
over-civil,  and  over- virtuous.  In  short,  that  those  examples 
which  may  be  imitated,  are  at  least  as  beneficial  as  those 
that  exceed  all  probability  and  belief ;  from  all  which  he 
concluded,  that,  if  a  man  could  write  as  good  novels  in 
French,  as  those  of  Miguel  de  Cervantes,  they  would  soon 
be  as  much  in  vogue  as  ever  heroic  romances  have  been. 
Roquebrune  was  not  of  the  same  opinion.  He  affirmed 
very  positively  that  there  could  be  no  pleasure  in  reading 
romances  unless  they  contained  the  adventures  of  princes, 
nay,  and  of  great  princes  too,  and  that  for  that  reason, 
(<  Astrea  *  only  pleased  him  here  and  there. 

<(  In  what  histories  can  one  find  kings  and  emperors  enough 
to  make  new  romances  ?  *  said  the  counselor. 

"We  must  feign  them,"  replied  Roquebrune,  (<as  they 
usually  do  in  fabulous  stories,  which  have  no  foundation  in 
history.  * 

<(I  perceive,  then,®  returned  the  counselor,  (<  that  (Don 
Quixote *  is  very  little  in  your  favor.  * 

(<  It  is  the  silliest  book  that  ever  I  read,"  replied  Roque- 
brune, (<  though  it  be  cried  up  b}r  a  great  many  men  of 
wit." 

"Have  a  care,"  said  Destiny,  (<it  be  not  rather  for  want 
of  wit  in  you,  than  any  defect  in  the  book,  that  you  enter- 
tain so  indifferent  an  opinion  of  it." 

Roquebrune  would  not  have  failed  to  answer  Destiny, 
had  he  but  heard  what  he  had  spoken.  But  he  was  so 
taken  up  with  telling  his  fears  to  some  ladies,  who  were 
come  near  the  players,  that  he  minded  him  not,  but  prom- 
ised that  fair  sex  he  would  write  a  romance  in  five  parts, 
every  part  to  contain  five  volumes,  which  should  eclipse  all 
the  Cassandras,  Cleopatras,  and  C}rruses  in  the  world, 
though    this  last  had  the  surname  of    Great,  as  well  as  the 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  71 

son  of  Pepin.  During  this  the  counselor  was  telling  Des- 
tiny and  the  actresses  that  he  had  written  some  novels  in 
imitation  of  the  Spaniards,  and  promised  he  would  commu- 
nicate them  to  them.  Thereupon  Inezilla  told  them,  in  a 
sort  of  French  that  had  more  of  the  Gascon  than  the 
Spanish  in  it,  that  her  first  husband  had  the  character  of 
a  tolerable  writer  in  the  court  of  Spain,  having  composed 
several  novels  that  were  much  esteemed  ;  some  whereof  she 
had  in  manuscript,  which,  in  her  opinion,  deserved  to  be 
translated  into  French.  The  young  counselor  being  ex- 
tremely curious  in  such  kind  of  compositions,  told  the 
Spanish  lady  she  would  do  him  a  great  favor  in  letting 
him  have  the  perusal  of  them,  which  she  very  civilly 
consented  to  do :  adding  withal,  that  nobody  was  better 
stored  with  novels  than  herself  ;  for  as  some  women  in  her 
country  would  sometimes  attempt  to  write  both  in  verse 
and  prose,  so  she  had  made  it  her  pastime,  and  could  en- 
tertain them  with  some  novels  of  her  own  making.  Ro- 
quebrune  confidently,  according  to  custom,  offered  to  turn 
them  into  French.  Inezilla,  who  was  perhaps  the  sharpest 
Spaniard  that  had  ever  come  over  the  Pyrenees,  replied, 
that  to  do  as  he  pretended,  it  was  not  only  requisite  he 
should  understand  the  French  tongue  well,  but  be  equally 
acquainted  with  the  Spanish  also ;  and  that  therefore 
she  could  not  give  him  her  novels  to  translate,  till  she  was 
so  well  acquainted  with  the  French,  as  to  be  able  to  judge 
whether  he  was  qualified  for  the  undertaking.  Rancour, 
who  had  been  silent  all  the  while,  said,  there  was  no  doubt 
to  be  made  of  his  ability,  since  he  had  been  corrector  to  a 
printing-house.  He  had  no  sooner  popped  out  these  words, 
but  he  remembered  Roquebrune  had  lent  him  money,  which 
made  him  pursue  his  jest  no  farther  ;  to  which  the  poet, 
dashed  out  of  countenance  at  Rancour's  words,  replied, 
that  he  could  not  deny  but  that  he  had  corrected  some  few 
sheets,  but  then  they  were  nothing  but  what  he  had  pub- 
lished of  his  own.  Madam  Star,  to  shift  the  discourse, 
told  Donna  Inezilla,  that  since  she  was  mistress  of  so  many 
fine  stories,  she  could  not  be  angry  if  she  often  importuned 
her  to  relate  some  of  them.  The  Spanish  lady  replied  she 
was    ready  to    give   her    satisfaction    presently.     They   took 


72  SCARRON 

her  at  her  word,  and  all  the  company  having  seated  them- 
selves round  her,  she  began  a  stpry,  though  not  in  the 
very  same  words  you  will  find  in  the  following  chapter  ; 
yet  so  intelligibly,  as  made  them  guess  she  was  mistress 
of  a  great  deal  of  wit  in  Spanish,  since  she  discovered  so 
much  in  a  language  to  whose  delicacies  she  was  a  perfect 
stranger. 


THE  IMPOSTER  OUTWITTED 

A  young  lady  of  the  city  of  Toledo,  named  Victoria, 
descended  from  the  ancient  family  of  Portocarrero, 
had  retired  to  a  house  she  had  on  the  banks  of 
the  Tagus,  about  half  a  league  distant  from  that  city, 
in  the  absence  of  her  brother,  who  was  a  captain  of  a 
troop  of  horse  in  the  L,ow  Countries.  She  became  a 
widow  at  seventeen,  having  been  wedded  to  an  old  gentle- 
man that  had  got  a  great  estate  in  the  Indies,  but  who  six 
months  after  his  marriage,  perished  in  a  storm  at  sea, 
leaving  much  wealth  to  his  wife.  This  fair  widow  after 
the  death  of  her  husband,  kept  house  constantly  with  her 
brother,  where  she  lived  in  such  repute  that  at  the  age  of 
twenty  all  the  mothers  proposed  her  for  a  pattern  for  their 
children,  the  husbands  to  their  wives,  and  the  lovers  to 
their  desires,  as  a  conquest  worthy  their  ambition.  But  as 
her  retirement  had  cooled  the  love  of  many  so,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  increased  the  esteem  the  whole  world  had 
for  her.  In  this  country  house  she  enjoyed  at  liberty  all 
the  innocent  pleasures  of  a  rural  life ;  when  one  morning 
her  shepherds  brought  to  her  a  couple  of  men,  whom  they 
had  found  stripped  of  all  their  clothes,  and  bound  safe  to 
a  tree,  to  which  they  had  been  tied  the  whole  night.  They 
had  lent  each  of  them  a  scurvy  shepherd's  coat  to  cover 
their  nakedness ;  and  in  this  fine  equipage  they  appeared 
before  the  fair  Victoria.  So  mean  a  habit  did  not  hide 
from  her  the  noble  mien  of  the  younger,  who  made  her  a 
genteel  compliment,  and  told  her  he  was  a  gentleman  of 
Cordova,  Don   I^opes    de    Gongora   by  name,  who  traveling 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  73 

from  Seville  to  Madrid  about  business  of  great  importance, 
and  having  overstayed  his  time  at  play,  about  half  a  day's 
journey  from  Toledo,  where  he  had  dined  the  day  before, 
the  night  surprised  them  ;  and  both  he  and  his  man  fall- 
ing asleep,  expecting  a  mule  driver  who  stayed  behind, 
some  thieves  finding  them  in  that  condition,  tied  them  to 
a  tree,  having  first  stripped  them.  Victoria  doubted  not 
the  truth  of  his  relation,  his  good  mien  pleading  in  his 
favor ;  however  thought  it  would  be  a  great  piece  of 
generosity  in  her  to  relieve  a  stranger  reduced  to  this  sad 
extremity.  It  happened  by  good  luck,  that  among  the 
clothes  her  brother  had  left  in  her  custody,  there  were 
some  suits,  for  the  Spaniards  never  part  with  their  old 
clothes,  though  they  make  new  ones.  They  chose  the 
finest,  and  that  which  fitted  best  the  master's  shape ;  and 
his  man  was  also  clothed  with  what  they  could  find  next 
at  hand.  Dinner-time  being  come,  this  stranger  whom 
Victoria  had  invited  to  her  table,  appeared  so  accomplished, 
and  entertained  her  with  so  much  wit,  that  she  thought 
the  relief  she  had  afforded  him  could  never  have  been 
better  bestowed.  They  conversed  together  the  remain- 
ing part  of  the  day,  and  were  so  much  taken  with 
each  other's  perfections,  that  neither  of  them  slept  so 
quietly  that  night  as  they  had  done  before.  The  stranger 
would  needs  send  his  man  to  Madrid,  to  fetch  him 
money,  and  buy  him  some  clothes,  or  at  least  he  pre- 
tended to  do  so  ;  but  the  fair  widow  would  by  no  means 
suffer  him,  promising  to  lend  him  as  much  as  would  carry 
him  to  his  journey's  end.  He  made  some  overtures  of 
love  to  her  the  very  same  day,  and  she  gave  him  a  favor- 
able audience.  In  fine,  in  a  fortnight's  time,  the  op- 
portunity of  the  place,  the  equal  merit  of  these  two 
persons,  a  great  many  oaths  and  vows  on  one  side,  too 
much  frankness  and  credulity  on  the  other,  a  promise  of 
marriage  rendered,  and  their  reciprocal  faith  plighted  in 
the  presence  of  an  old  gentleman-usher  and  waiting-woman, 
made  her  to  commit  a  fault  she  had  hitherto  been  thought 
incapable  of,  and  put  this  happy  stranger  in  possession  of 
the  most  beautiful  lady  of  Toledo.  For  eight  days  to- 
gether it  was  nothing  but  love  and    dear,    fire    and    flames, 


74  SCARRON 

and  the  like,  betwixt  these  two  lovers.  But  now  part  they 
must  and  tears  will  succeed.  Victoria  indeed  had  right  to 
stay  him,  but  the  stranger  pretended  he  lost  a  great  deal 
by  not  going ;  however  professed,  that  since  he  had  been 
so  happy  as  to  win  her  heart,  he  would  mind  no  more 
either  his  lawsuit  at  Madrid,  or  his  preferment  at  court. 
Hereupon  she  grew  impatient  to  have  him  gone ;  her  pas- 
sion it  seems  not  having  blinded  her  reason  so  much  as  to 
make  her  prefer  the  pleasure  of  his  company  to  that  of  his 
advancement.  She  got  new  clothes  made  for  him  and  his 
man  at  Toledo,  furnished  him  with  as  much  money  as  he 
desired  ;  and  so  he  set  forward  on  his  journey  to  Madrid, 
mounted  on  a  good  mule  and  his  man  on  another.  The 
poor  lady  was  full  of  real  grief  at  his  departure,  and  he 
was  no  less  afflicted,  or  at  least  pretended  to  be  so,  with 
the  greatest  hypocrisy  in  the  world.  The  same  day  he 
took  his  journey  the  chambermaid,  making  his  bed,  found 
a  picture-case  wrapped  in  a  letter  ;  she  carried  them  imme- 
diately to  her  mistress,  who  found  in  the  case  the  portrait- 
ure of  a  most  beautiful  young  lady,  and  reading  the  letter, 
it  contained  these  words,  or  others  to  the  same  effect :  — 

<(  Dear  Cousin, 

(<  Here  inclosed  I  send  you  the  picture  of  the  beautiful 
Elvira  de  Sylva,  but  when  you  shall  see  her,  you  will  be 
apt  to  confess  how  infinitely  the  resemblance  falls  short  of 
the  original  ;  and  how  much  brighter  her  beauty  is,  than 
that  the  painter  could  draw  for  her.  Her  father,  Don  Pe- 
dro de  Sylva,  expects  you  with  impatience.  The  articles 
of  marriage  betwixt  you  and  her  are  already  drawn  up  ac- 
cording to  your  wishes,  and  in  my  opinion,  very  much  to 
your  advantage.  All  this,  I  hope,  will  be  sufficient  to 
hasten  your  journey.     Farewell. 

(<  Don  Antonio  de  Ribera. 
(<  Madrid, w  etc. 

This  letter  was  directed  to  Ferdinand  de  Ribera  at 
Seville.  Now  imagine,  I  beseech  you,  Victoria's  astonish- 
ment at  the  reading  of  this  epistle,  which  in  all  probability, 
could  be  written  to  no  other  than  her  false  Lopes  de 
Gongora.       She    now    perceived,     but     too    late,     that    this 


THE    STROLLING   PLAYERS  75 

stranger,  whom  she  had  so  highly  and  so  hastily  obliged, 
had  disguised  his  name  ;  and  thereby  was  fully  assured  of 
his  infidelity  and  treachery.  The  beauty  of  the  lady  in 
the  picture  made  her  to  feel  all  the  torments  of  jealousy, 
and  the  articles  of  marriage  already  drawn  up,  almost 
distracted  her  with  despair.  Never  was  any  mortal 
creature  more  sensibly  afflicted ;  her  sighs  went  near  to 
burst  her  heart,  and  she  shed  such  a  flood  of  tears  that 
her  head  ached  most  intolerably.  <(  Miserable,  abandoned 
woman  that  I  am,"  said  she  to  herself  (and  sometimes 
would  also  bemoan  herself  before  her  old  gentleman-usher, 
and  waiting-woman,  who  had  both  been  witnesses  of  her 
marriage)  <(  have  I  thus  long  been  so  discreet  and  reserved 
to  commit  at  last  a  most  irreparable  fault?  And  have  I 
refused  so  many  men  of  quality  of  my  acquaintance,  who 
would  have  thought  themselves  but  too  happy  in  the 
enjoyment  of  me,  to  throw  myself  away  upon  a  stranger, 
who  perhaps  laughs  at  my  easy  credulity  now  he  has 
ruined  my  fame,  and  made  me  forever  miserable?  What 
will  they  say  of  me  at  Toledo  ;  nay,  what  will  they  say 
over  all  Spain?  Can  a  young,  base,  cheating  pretender, 
be  discreet?  Why  did  I  let  him  know  I  loved  him,  before 
I  was  assured  of  the  sincerity  of  his  heart?  Would  he 
have  changed  his  name,  if  he  had  meant  to  keep  his 
flattering  promises?  Or  can  I  hope,  after  all  this,  that  he 
will  not  reveal  his  easy  conquest  over  me?  What  will  not 
my  brother  be  provoked  to  do  to  me,  for  what  I  have 
done  against  myself?  And  to  what  purpose  is  he  now 
courting  glory  and  fame  in  Flanders,  if  I  must  disgrace 
him  thus  in  Spain?  No,  no,  Victoria,  thou  must  do  any- 
thing to  repair  this  crime.  But  before  I  proceed  to 
vengeance  and  desperate  remedies,  I  must  try  to  regain  by 
craft  what  I  have  lost  by  my  imprudence.  It  will  then  be 
time  enough  to  have  recourse  to  desperate  methods,  when 
all  other  means  prove  ineffectual. w  Victoria  had,  it  seems, 
a  great  spirit,  and  presence  of  mind,  since  she  could  fix  on 
so  good  a  resolution  at  such  a  plunge.  Her  old  gentle- 
man-usher, and  her  waiting-woman,  would  have  both 
given  her  advice  ;  but  she  told  them  she  knew  as  much  as 
they  could  say,  and  that  actions  and    not  words    must  now 


76  SCARRON 

do  her  business.  The  very  same  day,  a  couple  of  carts 
were  laden  with  household  stuff  and  necessaries,  Victoria 
giving  out  among  her  domestics  that  she  had  pressing 
occasions  concerning  her  brother,  which  called  her  to 
Court.  She  took  coach  with  her  squire  and  woman,  and 
hastened  to  Madrid,  whither  her  goods  were  appointed  to 
follow.  As  soon  as  she  arrived  there,  she  inquired  for 
Don  Pedro  de  Sylva's  house,  and  being  informed  where- 
abouts it  was,  hired  one  for  herself  in  the  same  street. 
Her  gentleman-usher's  name  was  Roderigo  Santillane,  who 
from  his  youth  had  been  bred  by  Victoria's  father,  which 
made  him  to  love  his  mistress  as  if  she  had  been  his  own 
sister.  Having  much  acquaintance  in  Madrid,  where  he 
had  spent  his  youthful  days,  he  soon  discovered  that  Don 
Pedro  de  Sylva's  daughter  was  to  be  wedded  to  a  gentle- 
man of  Seville  named  Ferdinand  de  Ribera,  which  match 
had  been  made  up  by  a  cousin  of  his  of  the  same  name, 
and  was  so  near  a  conclusion  that  Don  Pedro  was  already 
providing  servants  for  his  daughter.  The  very  next  day 
Roderigo  Santillane,  in  a  plain,  but  decent  garb,  Victoria  in 
the  habit  of  a  widow  of  mean  condition,  accompanied  by 
Beatrix  the  waiting- woman,  who  was  to  personate  her 
mother-in-law,  and  Roderigo' s  wife,  went  all  together  to 
Don  Pedro's  and  desired  to  speak  with  him.  Don  Pedro 
received  them  very  civilly,  whom  Roderigo  acquainted 
with  much  assurance  that  he  was  a  decayed  gentleman  of 
the  mountains  of  Toledo,  and  having  but  one  only  daughter 
by  his  first  wife,  which  was  Victoria,  whose  husband  died 
not  long  since  at  Seville,  and  finding  his  own  and  his 
daughter's  fortune  very  low,  he  had  brought  her  to  Court 
to  get  some  good  service  ;  and  moreover,  having  been 
informed  that  he  was  about  settling  his  daughter's  family 
upon  her  marriage,  he  hoped  he  would  not  take  it  un- 
kindly that  he  came  to  proffer  the  young  widow's  service 
to  him,  she  being  a  person  very  fit  to  be  a  duenna  to  the 
bride ;  adding,  his  daughter's  merit  gave  him  the  greater 
confidence  to  present  her  to  him,  not  doubting  but  that 
her  breeding  and  good  qualities  would  procure  her  a  little 
better  title  to  her  mistress's  favor  than  the  small  stock 
of   beauty    she   had   to   recommend    her.     Before    I    proceed 


THE   STROLLING  PLAYERS  77 

any  further,  I  must  advertise  those  that  are  unacquainted 
with  it,  that  the  ladies  in  Spain  keep  duennas  in  their 
houses,  and  that  those  duennas  are  much  the  same  with 
our  governautes  or  ladies  of  honor  belonging  to  persons 
of  quality.  I  must  add  to  this,  that  the  duennas  in 
Spain  are  severe  and  troublesome  animals,  no  less  dread- 
ful than  a  domineering  mother-in-law  is  esteemed  among 
us.  To  go  on  with  my  story,  Roderigo  played  his  part 
so  well,  and  Victoria,  beautiful  as  she  was,  appeared  so 
agreeable  in  her  modest  and  plain  attire,  and  had  such  a 
promising  look  in  her  face,  that  Don  Pedro  de  Sylva 
accepted  of  her  immediately  to  govern  his  daughter.  He 
proffered  Roderigo  and  his  wife  an  employment  in  his 
house  likewise ;  but  he  excused  himself,  and  told  him 
he  had  some  reasons  not  to  accept  of  the  honor  he  in- 
tended him ;  but  having  a  honse  in  the  same  street, 
he  would  be  ready  to  wait  on  him  at  any  time  he  should 
command  it.  Thus  was  Victoria  entertained  in  Don 
Pedro's  house,  infinitely  beloved  both  by  him  and  his 
daughter,  and  no  less  envied  by  all  the  other  servants. 
Don  Antonio  de  Ribera,  who  had  contrived  the  match 
between  his  faithless  cousin  and  Don  Pedro  de  Sylva' s 
daughter,  came  often  to  bring  Don  Pedro  news  that  his 
kinsman  was  on  his  journey,  and  had  written  to  him  of  his 
setting  forth  from  Seville,  and  yet  this  cousin  did  not  ap- 
pear. This  very  much  perplexed  him,  nor  could  Don  Pedro 
and  Elvira  tell  what  to  make  of  it.  But  still  Victoria  was 
the  most  concerned.  However,  Don  Ferdinand  was  not 
able  to  come  so  soon.  For  the  very  same  day  he  parted 
from  Victoria,  heaven  had  in  some  measure  punished  his 
treachery ;  for  as  he  passed  through  Illescas,  a  fierce  dog 
running  out  of  a  house  unawares,  affrighted  his  mule  so 
terribly  that  his  leg  was  sorely  bruised  against  a  wall,  he 
thrown  down,  and  his  knee  put  out  of  joint,  which  pained 
him  so  exceedingly  that  he  could  not  prosecute  his  jour- 
ney. He  was  seven  or  eight  days  under  the  surgeons' 
hands,  who  were  none  of  the  most  skillful ;  when  his  ail- 
ment growing  worse  and  worse,  he  at  length  acquainted  his 
cousin  with  his  misfortune,  desiring  him  withal  to  send  him 
a  horse-litter.     The  news  of  his  friend's  fall  afflicted  no  less 


78  SCARRON 

than  the  knowledge  of  his  being  so  nigh  pleased  them. 
Victoria,  who  still  loved  him,  was  not  a  little  disquieted. 
Don  Antonio  sent  a  litter  to  convey  Don  Ferdinand  to 
Madrid,  where,  being  arrived,  while  they  were  providing 
clothes  for  him  and  his  retinue,  which  was  to  be  very  mag- 
nificent, he  being  the  eldest  son  of  the  family,  and  wealthy 
enough,  the  surgeons  of  Madrid,  more  skillful  than  those 
at  Illescas,  cured  him  perfectly  well.  Don  Pedro  de  Sylva 
and  his  daughter  Elvira  had  notice  of  the  day  when  Don 
Antonio  de  Ribera  was  to  bring  his  cousin  Don  Ferdinand 
to  them.  It  is  probable  the  young  Elvira  did  not  neglect 
herself  upon  that  occasion,  nor  that  Victoria  was  without 
concern  at  this  intended  interview.  She  saw  her  faithless 
lover  enter,  tricked  up  like  a  bridegroom ;  and  if  he  was  so 
charming  in  a  poor  naked  deshabille,  what  must  he  be  now 
in  his  wedding-clothes?  Don  Pedro  was  very  well  satisfied 
with  him,  and  his  daughter  must  have  been  very  nice  had 
she  not  been  fully  pleased.  All  the  servants  of  the  house 
stared  with  all  the  eyes  they  had  upon  their  young  lady's 
bridegroom,  and  every  one  of  the  family  was  overjoyed  at 
the  match,  except  the  poor  Victoria,  whose  heart  you  may 
imagine  was  oppressed  with  grief.  Don  Ferdinand  was 
charmed  with  Elvira's  beauty,  and  confessed  to  his  cousin 
that  she  was  yet  more  beautiful  than  her  picture,  accord- 
ing to  what  he  had  hinted  in  his  letter.  His  first  compli- 
ments displayed  a  great  deal  of  wit,  and  he  very  skillfully 
avoided  those  impertinent  fooleries,  and  starched  nonsense, 
which  most  men  are  guilty  of  in  their  first  addresses  to  a 
father-in-law  and  a  mistress.  Don  Pedro  de  Sylva  locked 
himself  up  in  a  closet  with  the  two  kinsmen  and  a  lawyer, 
to  adjust  somewhat  that  was  left  unfinished  in  the  articles. 
In  the  meantime  Elvira  stayed  in  her  chamber,  surrounded 
by  her  women,  who  all  expressed  their  joy  at  the  good 
mien  and  noble  air  of  her  lover.  Only  Victoria  stood  cold 
and  silent,  while  the  rest  were  in  their  raptures.  Elvira 
observed  this,  therefore  took  her  aside  to  tell  her  that  she 
admired  she  said  nothing  of  the  happy  choice  her  father 
made  of  a  son-in-law  who  seemed  so  deserving  ;  adding,  that 
either  out  of  complaisance  or  civility  she  ought  at  least  to 
wish  her  joy. 


THE    STROLLING   PLAYERS  79 

(<  Madam, *  replied  Victoria,  <(  your  lover's  mien  speaks  so 
much  to  his  advantage,  that  it  were  needless  for  me  to  add 
my  commendations  ;  the  coldness  you  have  taken  notice  of 
does  not  proceed  from  any  indifference ;  and  I  were  un- 
worthy of  the  favors  you  have  vouchsafed  me  should  I  not 
share  in  everything  that  concerns  you  ;  and  therefore  should 
be  no  less  transported  with  joy  at  your  marriage,  than  all 
the  rest  about  you  are,  were  I  not  so  well  acquainted  with 
the  gentleman  you  are  about  to  wed.  My  own  husband  was 
an  inhabitant  of  Seville,  whose  house  was  not  far  off  from 
your  lover's.  He  is,  I  confess,  of  a  good  family,  rich, 
handsome,  and,  I  believe,  a  man  of  wit.  In  fine,  he  is 
worthy  a  lady  such  as  you  are.  But  withal  I  must  tell 
you,  Madam,  you  desire  a  man's  entire  affection,  which  he 
cannot  bestow  on  you,  because  his  heart  is  divided.  I 
could  waive  a  discovery  which  may  perhaps  displease  you : 
but  I  should  be  wanting  in  my  duty  should  I  not  reveal 
all  I  know  of  Don  Ferdinand  in  a  business  which  so  nearly 
concerns  the  happiness  or  unhappiness  of   your  whole  life.® 

Elvira  was  amazed  at  her  duenna's  words,  and  entreated 
her  not  to  defer  any  longer  the  clearing  of  those  doubts  she 
had  started. 

Victoria  replied  it  was  neither  to  be  done  before  her 
women,  nor  in  few  words.  Elvira  pretended  she  had  some 
business  of  privacy  in  her  chamber,  when  as  soon  as  they 
were  alone,  Victoria  told  her,  that  Ferdinand  de  Ribera  was 
in  love  at  Seville  with  one  Lucretia  de  Monsalva,  a  very 
beautiful  lady,  though  of  a  very  mean  fortune,  by  whom 
he  had  three  children,  upon  promise  of  marriage ;  and  that 
during  Ribera's  father's  life  it  was  kept  secret ;  after  whose 
death  Lucretia,  having  claimed  his  promise,  he  grew  indif- 
ferent to  her,  whereupon  she  had  left  the  business  to  the 
management  of  two  gentlewomen,  her  relations,  who  had  made 
so  much  noise  in  Seville  that  Don  Ferdinand,  through  his 
friend's  persuasion,  absented  himself  for  a  while,  to  shun  the 
rage  of  Lucretia' s  kindred,  who  sought  for  nothing  so 
much  as  blood  and  revenge.  <(  In  this  posture  were  his  af- 
fairs/* added  she,  "when  I  left  Seville,  which  is  about  a 
month  ago,  at  which  time  it  was  also  reported  that  Don 
Ferdinand  was  going  to  Madrid  to  be  married."     Elvira  could 


80  SCARRON 

not  forbear  asking,  whether  that  I^ucretia  were  a  great 
beauty  ?  Victoria  told  her  she  wanted  nothing  but  a  for- 
tune ;  so  left  her  extremely  pensive,  and  firmly  resolved  to 
give  her  father  instantly  an  account  of  the  discovery.  At 
the  same  moment,  she  was  called  to  entertain  her  lover,  the 
business  for  which  he  had  retired  into  the  closet  with  her 
father  being  concluded.  Klvira  went  to  him,  while  Victoria 
stayed  in  the  withdra wing-room,  where  the  same  fellow 
came  to  her  that  attended  on  him  when  she  so  generously 
received  them  into  her  house  near  Toledo.  This  servant 
brought  a  packet  of  letters  for  his  master,  which  he  had 
taken  up  at  the  post-office  from  Seville,  and  not  knowing 
Victoria,  so  much  her  widow's  weeds  disguised  her,  he  de- 
sired to  be  admitted  to  the  speech  of  his  master,  to  deliver 
him  his  letters.  She  told  him  it  would  be  a  good  while 
before  he  could  conveniently  speak  with  him  ;  but  if  he 
durst  trust  her  with  his  packet,  she  would  be  sure  to  give 
it  him  as  soon  as  she  possibly  could.  The  fellow  made  no 
scruple  in  the  matter,  but  having  left  the  packet  in  her 
custody,  went  about  his  business.  Victoria,  who  was  re- 
solved to  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  revenge  herself,  goes 
up  to  her  own  chamber,  opens  the  packet,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment seals  it  up  again,  together  with  a  letter  of  her  own, 
which  she  had  written  in  haste.  In  the  meantime,  the 
two  kinsmen  made  an  end  of  their  visit,  and  took  their 
leave.  Elvira,  espying  the  packet  in  her  governante's  hands, 
asked  what  it  was?  Victoria  coldly  answered,  that  Don 
Ferdinand's  servant  had  left  a  packet  of  some  letters  with 
her  to  deliver  to  his  master,  which  she  was  going  to  send 
after  him,  not  being  in  the  way  when  he  went  out.  Elvira 
said  it  would  give  them  some  farther  light  about  the  dis- 
covery she  had  made,  and  therefore  she  would  open  them. 
This  being  what  was  desired,  Victoria  breaks  open  the 
seal  a  second  time  :  Elvira  looked  upon  all  the  letters,  and 
fixing  her  eye  upon  one  which  seemed  to  be  written  by  a 
woman,  addressed  to  Don  Ferdinand  de  Ribera  at  Madrid,  she 
read  the  following  lines  :  — 

w  Your  absence,  and  the  news  I  hear  of  your  marriage  at 
Court,  will  soon  deprive  you  of   a  person    that   valued   you 


THE    STROLLING  PLAYERS  81 

above  her  own  life,  unless  you  suddenly  return,  and  make 
good  your  promise ;  which  you  can  neither  defer  any 
longer,  nor  deny  me  without  a  manifest  indifference  or 
breach  of  faith.  If  what  I  hear  be  true,  that  you  regard 
your  vows  and  promises  so  little,  which  you  have  made 
both  to  me  and  our  children,  I  advise  you  to  take  care  of 
your  life  ;  which  my  relations  are  resolved  to  take  for  your 
treachery,  whenever  your  ungrateful  usage  shall  prompt  me 
to  call  upon  them  for  my  just  revenge,  since  you  enjoy  it 
now  only  at  my  request.  Lucretia  de  Monsalva. 

<(  Seville,"  etc. 

Elvira  having  read  this  letter  was  thoroughly  persuaded 
of  the  truth  of  what  her  governante  had  told  her.  More- 
over she  showed  it  to  her  father,  who  could  not  but  ad- 
mire tl:at  a  gentleman  of  his  quality  could  be  so  base  as 
to  be  treacherous  to  a  lady  of  equal  birth  with  him,  after 
he  had  had  so  many  children  by  her.  Thereupon  he  went 
to  a  gentleman  of  Seville  for  farther  information,  being  a 
friend  of  his,  and  one  that  had  before  given  him  an  ac- 
count of  Ferdinand's  wealth  and  circumstances.  He  was 
scarce  gone  out  of  doors,  when  Don  Ferdinand  came  to  in- 
quire for  his  packet,  attended  by  his  servant,  who  told  him 
that  his  mistress's  governante  had  promised  to  deliver  it  into 
his  hands.  He  found  Elvira  alone  in  the  parlor,  and  told 
her  that  though  the  engagement  which  was  between  her 
and  him  might  excuse  two  visits  in  one  day,  yet  he  now 
only  came  for  the  letters  his  man  had  told  him  he  had  left 
with  her  duenna.  Elvira  freely  told  him  that  she  had 
taken  them  from  her,  and  had  had  the  curiosity  to  break 
them  open  ;  not  doubting  but  a  man  of  his  years  had  some 
amorous  engagements  in  so  great  a  city  as  Sevilie ;  and 
though  her  curiosity  afforded  her  but  little  satisfaction,  yet 
had  she  met  with  this  caution  in  recompense  ;  that  it  was 
dangerous  for  people  to  be  married  together  before  they 
were  thoroughly  acquainted  ;  adding,  she  would  not  debar 
him  any  longer  of  the  pleasure  of  perusing  his  letters ;  and 
therefore  immediately  restored  him  his  packet,  together 
with  the  counterfeit  letter  :  and  after  making  him  a  slight 
curtesy,  left  him  without  waiting  for  his  answer.  Don 
6 


82  SCARRON 

Ferdinand  was  strangely  surprised  at  his  mistress's  dis- 
course. He'  perused  the  supposed  letter,  and  quickly  per- 
ceived it  was  a  trick  to  hinder  his  marriage.  He  addressed 
himself  to  Victoria,  who  remained  in  the  outward  room, 
and  told  her,  without  taking  much  notice  of  her  face,  that 
either  some  rival  or  malicious  person  had  contrived  that 
letter  to  abuse  him. 

<(  I  a  wife  in  Seville !  ■  cried  he  with  amazement :  •  I 
children  !  If  this  be  not  the  most  impudent  imposture  that 
ever  was  set  on  foot,  I'll  forfeit  my  head  !  * 

Victoria  told  him  he  might  possibly  be  innocent ;  how- 
ever, Elvira  in  common  discretion  could  do  no  less  than 
make  a  farther  inquiry  into  the  truth  ;  and  that  therefore 
the  marriage  would  certainly  be  put  off  till  her  father,  Don 
Pedro,  could  be  convinced  by  a  gentleman  of  Seville,  a 
friend  of  his  (whom  he  was  then  gone  to  seek  on  purpose), 
that  this  was  only  a  pretended  intrigue. 

<(  With  all  my  heart,  *  answered  he  ;  (<  and  if  there  be  but 
a  lady  of  the  name  of  Lucretia  de  Monsalva  in  all  Seville, 
let  me  forfeit  the  honor  and  reputation  of  a  gentleman. 
And  let  me  entreat  you,  *  added  he,  <(  to  let  me  know,  if 
you  are  so  far  in  your  lady's  favor  as  I  suppose  you  to 
be,  that  I  may  bespeak  your  good  offices  on  this  occa- 
sion. * 

"Truly,8  answered  Victoria,  <(  I  believe,  without  vanity, 
that  she  will  not  do  a  thing  upon  anybody's  account  that 
she  has  refused  to  do  on  mine.  But  withal  I  know  her 
humor  to  be  such  that  she  is  not  easily  appeased  when  she 
thinks  herself  disobliged.  And  as  all  the  hopes  of  mending 
my  fortune  depend  on  the  kindness  she  has  for  me,  I  shall 
never  offer  to  contradict  her  out  of  complaisance  to  you, 
nor  hazard  her  displeasure  by  endeavoring  to  work  her  out 
of  the  ill  opinion  she  has  of  your  sincerity.  I  am  but 
poor,"  added  she,  (<  and  not  to  get  anything  were  to  lose  a 
great  deal.  If  what  she  has  promised  to  give  me  in  case 
I  marry  a  second  time  should  fail,  I  might  live  a  widow 
all  the  rest  of  my  days,  though  I  am  yet  young  enough 
and  not  so  deformed  but  that  somebody  or  other  may  like 
me.  But  it  is  an  old  saying,  and  a  true  one,  that  without 
money B 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  83 

She  was  thus  going  on  with  a  true  governante's  tedious 
tale  —  for  to  act  her  part  to  the  life  she  must  talk  a  great 
deal  —  when  Don  Ferdinand,  interrupting  her,  said:  (<  Do 
me  but  one  piece  of  service  I  shall  require  of  you,  and  I 
will  put  you  above  the  hopes  of  your  mistress's  reward. 
And,  *  added  he,  <(  to  convince  you  that  my  promises  are 
not  empty  words,  give  me  but  pen,  ink,  and  paper,  and  you 
shall  immediately  have  what  you  will  under  my  hand. n 

<(  Jesu  !  Signior,  *  said  the  feigned  governante,  (<  a  gentle- 
man's word  is  as  good  as  his  bond,  but  to  obey  you,  I 
will  fetch  you  what  you  desire. *  She  returned  again  with 
materials  enough  to  have  drawn  a  bond  for  a  million  of 
gold,  and  Don  Ferdinand  was  so  gallant,  or  at  least  had 
such  a  month's  mind  to  Elvira,  that  he  signed  her  a  blank, 
leaving  her  to  fill  it  up  as  she  pleased,  thereby  to  engage 
her  to  serve  him  with  the  greater  zeal.  This  raised  Vic- 
toria up  to  the  clouds.  She  promised  wonders  to  Don 
Ferdinand,  and  moreover  told  him  she  wished  herself  the 
unhappiest  of  all  her  sex  if  she  did  not  act  in  this  busi- 
ness as  if  she  herself  had  been  a  party  concerned.  In  this 
she  spoke  a  great  truth.  Don  Ferdinand  left  her  full  of 
hopes  ;  and  Roderigo  Santillane,  who  went  for  her  father, 
being  come  to  visit  her,  to  learn  how  her  intrigue  ad- 
vanced, she  gave  him  an  account  of  all,  and  showed  him 
the  blank  paper  subscribed ;  for  which  he  with  her  gave 
thanks  to  heaven,  finding  now  that  all  things  seemed  to 
contribute  to  her  happiness.  To  lose  no  time,  he  went 
home  to  the  house  that  Victoria  had  hired  not  far  from 
Don  Pedro's,  as  I  have  before  related,  where  he  filled  up 
the  blank  Don  Ferdinand  had  given,  with  a  promise  of 
marriage  attested  by  witnesses,  and  dated  about  the  same 
time  that  Victoria  received  this  faithless  man  into  her 
country-house.  He  was  as  skillful  a  penman  as  any  in 
Spain,  and  had  studied  Don  Ferdinand's  hand  so  exactly 
well  in  a  copy  of  verses  of  his  own  writing,  that  even  Don 
Ferdinand  himself  would  have  been  mistaken  in  the  forgery, 
and  thought  it  to  have  been  his  own  hand.  Don  Pedro  de 
Sylva  could  not  meet  with  the  gentleman  he  sought  to  be 
informed  by  about  Don  Ferdinand's  amours,  therefore 
left  a  note  for  him,  and  so  came  back  to  his  house  ;  where 


84  SCARRON 

that  same  night  Elvira  unbosomed  her  secrets  to  her  gov- 
ernaute,  and  vowed  she  would  sooner  disobey  her  father 
than  ever  marry  Don  Ferdinand,  confessing  withal  that  she 
had  been  pre-eugaged  to  one  Don  Diego  de  Maradas  a  long 
while  before,  and  had  in  all  reason  complied  enough  with 
her  father's  commands  and  her  own  duty,  by  putting  a 
constraint  on  her  inclinations,  to  satisfy  him ;  but  since 
heaven  had  ordered  it  so  that  Ferdinand's  treachery  was  dis- 
covered, she  thought,  by  refusing  him,  she  obeyed  the  divine 
pleasure,  which  seemed  to  allot  her  another  husband.  You 
may  imagine  Victoria  fortified  Elvira  in  these  good  resolutions, 
and  spoke  quite   contrary   to  Don  Ferdinand's  expectations. 

"Don  Diego  de  Maradas,"  said  then  Elvira  to  her,  ttis 
much  dissatisfied  with  me  for  having  paid  this  obedience  to 
my  father ;  but  the  least  inviting  look  from  me  will  how- 
ever be  sure  to  bring  him  back,  were  he  at  as  great  a 
distance  from  me  as   Don  Ferdinand  is   from  his  Lucretia." 

<(  Write  to  him,  madam, w  quoth  Victoria,  (<and  I  will 
willingly  be  your  messenger.  * 

Elvira  was  overjoyed  to  find  her  governante  so  favorable 
to  her  designs ;  she  commanded  the  coach  to  be  made 
ready  for  Victoria,  who  immediately  went  away  with  a 
billet-doux  for  Don  Diego,  and  being  alighted  at  her  father 
Santillane's,  sent  the  coach  back  again,  telling  the  coach- 
man she  would  walk  the  rest  of  the  way  whither  she 
designed  to  go.  Honest  .Santillane  showed  her  the  promise 
of  marriage  he  had  drawn  up,  whereupon  she  immediately 
wrote  two  little  notes,  one  to  Don  Diego  de  Maradas,  the 
other  to  Don  Pedro  de  Sylva,  her  lady's  father,  wherein 
she  entreated  both  of  them  to  repair  to  her  house  about 
business,  •  with  the  direction  where  she  dwelt,  and  sub- 
scribed herself  Victoria  Portccarrero.  While  these  notes 
were  carrying,  Victoria  strips  off  her  black  weeds,  puts  on 
very  rich  clothes,  pulls  out  her  locks  (which  I  have  been 
told  were  of  the  finest  colored  hair  that  could  be),  and 
dressed  her  head  as  nicely  as  if  she  had  been  going  to 
Court.  Don  Diego  de  Maradas  came  a  while  after,  to 
know  what  concern  a  lady  to  whom  he  was  a  perfect 
stranger  could  have  with  him.  She  received  him  verv 
civilly,    and    they    were  scarce   set  down,  when  it  was  told 


THE   STROLLING  PLAYERS  85 

her  that  Don  Pedro  de  Sylva  was  come  likewise  to  wait 
upon  her.  She  entreated  Don  Diego  to  conceal  himself  in 
her  alcove,  assuring  him  it  concerned  him  very  much  to 
hear  the  discourse  she  should  have  with  Don  Pedro.  He 
easily  complied  with  the  desire  of  a  lady  of  so  much  beauty 
and  so  good  a  mien,  and  Don  Pedro  was  admitted  into 
Victoria's  chamber,  not  knowing  her,  so  much  had  her 
headdress  and  rich  attire  changed  her  face  and  heightened 
her  majestic  air.  She  desired  him  to  place  himself  in  a 
chair,  whence  Don  Diego  might  easily  hear  all  they  said, 
and  then  she  began  in  these  words  :  — 

"I  think,  sir,  I  ought  in  the  first  place  to  inform  you 
who  I  am,  because  in  all  probability  you  are  impatient  to 
know  it.  I  am  of  the  family  of  the  Portocarreros,  born  in 
the  city  of  Toledo,  where  I  was  married  at  the  age  of  six- 
teen, and  became  a  widow  about  six  months  after.  My 
father  was  a  knight  of  the  order  of  St.  Jago,  and  my 
brother  of  the  order  of  Callatrava." 

Don  Pedro  interrupted  her,  to  let  her  know  her  father 
was  his  intimate  friend. 

"What  you  tell  me  rejoices  me  extremely, *  answered 
Victoria,  <(  for  I  shall  have  occasion  for  a  great  many 
friends  in  the  affair  I  design  to  acquaint  you  with."  After 
this  she  informed  Don  Pedro  of  all  that  passed  between  her 
and  Don  Ferdinand,  and  put  into  his  hands  the  promise  of 
marriage  counterfeited  by  Santillane.  He  had  no  sooner 
read  it,  but  she  went  on  thus :  "  You  know,  sir,  what 
honor  obliges  persons  of  my  quality  to  do  in  these  cases ; 
for  though  justice  should  be  partially  denied  me,  yet  have 
my  friends  power  and  credit  enough  to  prosecute  my  in- 
terest to  the  highest.  I  thought,  sir,  it  became  me  to  let 
you  know  my  pretensions,  that  you  might  put  a  stop  to  that 
match  you  had  designed  for  your  daughter.  She  deserves 
better  than  to  be  thrown  away  upon  a  faithless  man ;  and 
I  believe  you  are  more  discreet  than  to  procure  her  a  hus- 
band whom  another  has  a  right  to  dispute  with  her." 

"Were  he  a  grandee  of  Spain,"  replied  Don  Pedro,  "I 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  him  if  he  were  unjust  and 
false  as  yon  say  he  is.  I  shall  therefore  not  only  refuse 
him  my  daughter,  but    likewise  forbid    him  my  house.     As 


86  SCARRON 

for  yourself,  madam,"  continued  he,  "both  my  friends  and 
interest  are  at  your  service.  I  had  notice  given  me  before, 
that  he  was  a  man  that  pursued  his  pleasure  even  to  the 
hazard  of  his  reputation ;  and  being  of  that  temper,  though 
you  had  no  title  to  him,  yet  should  he  never  have  my 
daughter,  who,  I  hope  in  God,  shall  not  want  a  husband 
in  the  Court  of   Spain.® 

Don  Pedro  took  his  leave  of  Victoria,  perceiving  she  had 
no  more  to  say  to  him ;  and  then  she  called  Don  Diego  out 
of  the  alcove,  where  he  had  overheard  all  the  conversation 
she  had  with  her  mistress's  father.  This  spared  her  the 
labor  of  repeating  her  story  to  him.  She  delivered  Elvira's 
letter  to  him,  which  transported  him  with  joy  ;  and  lest  he 
should  be  in  pain  to  know  how  she  came  by  it,  she  in- 
trusted him  with  her  metamorphosis  into  a  duenna,  know- 
ing he  was  as  much  concerned  as  herself  to  keep  it  secret. 
Don  Diego,  before  he  left  Victoria,  wrote  an  answer  to  his 
mistress's  letter,  wherein  the  infinite  joy  he  expressed  for 
his  revived  hopes  plainly  discovered  the  real  affliction  he 
had  been  in  ever  since  he  thought  them  quite  lost.  He 
parted  from  the  fair  widow,  who  presently  put  on  her  gov- 
ernante's  habit,  and  returned  to  Don  Pedro's. 

In  the  interim  Don  Ferdinand  de  Ribera  was  come  to 
wait  on  his  mistress,  and  had  taken  his  cousin  Don  An- 
tonio along  with  him  to  endeavor  to  set  all  to  rights 
again,  which  had  been  charged  against  him  by  Victoria's 
feigned  letter.  Don  Pedro  found  them  with  his  daughter, 
who  knew  not  what  to  answer  when  they  both  desired  no 
better  justification  than  only  a  due  inquiry  whether  there 
ever  were  in  Seville  such  a  lady  as  Lucretia  de  Monsalva. 
They  renewed  the  same  plea  to  Don  Pedro  to  clear  Don 
Ferdinand  ;  to  which  he  answered  that  if  that  engagement 
with  the  lady  of  Seville  was  a  supposition,  it  was  so  much 
the  easier  to  be  cleared ;  but  that  he  came  from  a  lady  of 
Toledo,  named  Victoria  Portocarrero,  to  whom  Don  Ferdi- 
nand had  promised  marriage,  and  to  whom  he  was  still 
more  engaged  by  having  been  so  generously  assisted  by  her 
when  a  mere  stranger  to  her  ;  which  he  could  not  deny, 
since  she  had  under  his  hand  and  seal  a  promise  of 
marriage  ;  adding  withal,   that  a  person  of  honor  ought  not 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  87 

to  court  a  wife  at  Madrid,  while  he  had  one  already  at 
Toledo.  At  these  words  he  showed  the  two  cousins  the 
promise  of  marriage  in  due  form.  Don  Antonio  knew  his 
cousin's  writing,  and  Don  Ferdinand,  mistaking  it,  though 
he  were  confident  he  had  never  given  any  such,  yet  was 
quite  confounded  at  the  sight  of  it.  The  father  and 
daughter  withdrew,  after  they  had  coldly  bid  them  fare- 
well. Don  Antonio  quarreled  with  his  cousin  for  employ- 
ing him  in  this  treaty  when  he  had  another  on  foot 
before.  They  took  coach  together,  where  Don  Antonio, 
having  made  him  confess  his  unhandsome  proceeding  with 
Victoria,  reproached  him  a  thousand  times  with  the 
heinousness  of  the  fact,  and  withal  represented  to  him  the 
evil  consequence  that  was  like  to  attend  it.  He  told  him 
he  must  not  think  of  getting  a  wife  either  at  Madrid  or  in 
any  part  of  Spain  after  this  rate ;  and  that  he  were  happy 
if  he  could  get  off  by  marrying  Victoria  without  forfeiting 
his  life  with  his  honor,  Victoria's  brother  being  a  person 
not  used  to  put  up  so  foul  affronts  without  full  satisfac- 
tion. It  was  Don  Ferdinand's  part  to  be  silent,  while  his 
cousin  continued  his  reproaches.  His  conscience  sufficiently 
accused  him  of  treachery  and  falsehood  to  a  lady  that  had 
so  highly  obliged  him ;  but  this  promise  of  marriage  how- 
ever almost  distracted  him,  not  knowing  by  what  strange 
enchantment  they  had  made  him  to  grant  it.  Victoria, 
being  come  back  to  Don  Pedro's  in  her  widow's  weeds, 
delivered  Don  Diego's  letter  to  Elvira,  who  told  her  how 
the  two  kinsmen  had  been  there  to  justify  themselves ;  but 
that  Don  Ferdinand  had  been  charged  with  other-guess  prac- 
tices than  his  amour  with  the  lady  of  Seville.  She  afterward 
related  what  Victoria  knew  better  than  herself,  though  she 
pretended  to  admire  at  and  detest  Don  Ferdinand's  baseness. 
The  same  day  Elvira  was  invited  to  a  play  at  one  of  her 
relations.  Victoria,  whose  thoughts  still  ran  upon  her  own 
affairs,  hoped,  if  Elvira  would  follow  her  counsel,  that  this 
play  might  prove  favorable  to  her  design.  She  told  her 
young  lady  that,  if  she  had  a  mind  to  meet  her  lover,  Don 
Diego,  there  was  nothing  more  easy,  her  father's  house 
being  the  most  convenient  that  could  be ;  and  that, 
since  the  play  was    not    to    begin    till    midnight,  she  might 


88  SCARRON 

go  out  a  little  earlier,  and  have  time  enough  to  speak 
with  Don  Diego,  and  after  go  to  her  relation's.  Elvira, 
who  really  loved  Don  Diego,  and  had  consented  to  marry 
Don  Ferdinand  merely  out  of  respect  to  her  father's  com- 
mands, showed  no  reluctance  to  do  what  Victoria  had  pro- 
pounded. They  therefore  took  coach  as  soon  as  ever  Don 
Pedro  was  gone  to  bed,  and  went  to  Victoria's  house. 
Santillane,  as  master  of  the  family,  and  Beatrix,  who  per- 
sonated the  mother-in-law,  welcomed  them  very  kindly. 
Elvira  wrote  a  billet  to  Don  Diego,  which  was  delivered 
immediately ;  while  Victoria  despatched  another  privately 
to  Don  Ferdinand  in  Elvira's  name,  to  let  him  know 
it  was  in  his  power  to  complete  the  match,  on  which 
his  extraordinary  merit  engaged  her  to  adventure,  as 
not  desiring  to  make  herself  unhappy  forever  by  losing 
him,  only  to  please  a  father's  crabbed  suspicious  hu- 
mor. In  the  same  note  she  gave  him  such  particular 
directions  how  to  find  the  house,  that  it  was  impossible 
he  should  miss  it.  This  note  was  carried  a  little  while 
after  that  other  from  Elvira  to  Don  Diego.  Victoria  wrote 
a  third  likewise,  which  Santillane  carried  himself  to  Don 
Pedro  de  Sylva,  by  which  she  informed  him,  as  a  trusty 
governante,  that  his  daughter,  instead  of  going  to  the  play, 
would  needs  stop  at  her  father's  house,  and  had  sent  for 
Don  Ferdinand  to  consummate  her  nuptials  with  him ; 
which  she  believing  to  be  contrary  to  his  consent,  thought 
herself  obliged  to  give  him  notice  of  it,  to  the  end  he  might 
be  sensible  he  was  not  at  all  mistaken  in  the  good  opinion 
he  had  entertained  of  her  honesty,  when  he  chose  her  for 
his  daughter's  governante.  Santillane  likewise  told  Don 
Pedro  that  his  daughter  had  charged  him  not  to  come 
thither  by  any  means  without  bringing  an  alguazil  with' 
him,  which  is  an  officer  much  like  to  a  commissary  in  Paris. 
Don  Pedro,  then  being  in  bed,  hastened  to  put  on  his  clothes 
in  a  great  passion.  But  while  he  is  dressing,  and  sending 
for  a  commissary,  let  us  go  back  and  see  what  they  are 
doing  at  Victoria's.  By  good  fortune  the  notes  came  safe 
to  the  brace  of  lovers'  hands.  Don  Diego,  who-  had  received 
his  first,  came  first  to  the  assignation.  Victoria  met  him  at 
the    door,   and    conducted    him    into   a    chamber,  where    she 


THE   STROLLING   PLAYERS  89 

left  him  with  Elvira.  I  will  not  trouble  you  with  the  relation 
of  all  the  endearments  that  passed  betwixt  these  two  young 
lovers ;  and  if  I  would,  Don  Ferdinand's  knocking  at  the 
door  will  not  give  me  time  to  do  it.  Victoria  lets  him  in 
herself,  after  having  magnified  the  great  service  she  had 
done  him  on  this  occasion  ;  for  which  the  amorous  spark 
returned  her  a  thousand  thanks,  promising  he  would  yet  do 
more  for  her  than  all  his  former  promises  engaged  him  to. 
She  leads  him  into  a  chamber,  where  she  desired  him  to 
stay  a  while  for  Elvira,  who  was  coming,  and  so  locked 
him  in  without  light,  telling  him  his  mistress  would  needs 
have  it  so,  but  that  it  would  not  be  long  before  he  should 
be  visible  again  ;  adding  that  a  young  lad}r's  modesty  would 
not  suffer  her  to  bear,  without  blushing,  the  sight  of  a 
man  for  whom  she  had  committed  so  bold  an  action.  This 
done,  Victoria,  with  all  the  haste  she  could,  attired  herself 
as  well  and  as  nicely  as  the  short  time  would  permit.  She 
goes  into  the  chamber  where  Don  Ferdinand  was,  who  had 
not  the  least  suspicion  but  that  she  was  Elvira,  being  no 
less  young  than  she,  and  having  such  perfumes  about  her, 
according  to  the  Spanish  fashion,  as  would  have  made  a 
chambermaid  pass  for  a  woman  of  quality. 

In  this  interim  Don  Pedro,  the  alguazil,  and  Santillane 
arrive.  They  enter  the  chamber  where  Elvira  was  in  private 
with  her  lover ;  at  which  they  both  were  not  a  little  sur- 
prised. Don  Pedro,  blinded  by  the  first  transports  of  his 
passion,  was  ready  to  run  the  person  through  whom  he 
took  for  Don  Ferdinand.  The  commissary,  discovering  it 
was  not  he,  but  Don  Diego,  held  his  arm,  bidding  him  to 
have  a  care  what  he  did,  since  it  was  not  Don  Ferdinand 
de  Ribera  that  was  with  his  daughter,  but  Don  Diego  de 
Maradas,  a  person  of  no  less  quality  and  riches.  Don  Pedro 
at  this  behaved  himself  like  a  discreet  gentleman,  and  raised 
his  daughter,  who  had  cast  herself  at  his  feet.  He  wisely  con- 
sidered that  if  he  should  cross  her  inclination  by  opposing  this 
match,  he  would  create  both  her  and  himself  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  ;  and  besides  could  not  pitch  upon  a  better  son-in- 
law,  though  he  had  the  choosing  of  one  himself.  Santillane 
desired  Don  Pedro,  the  alguazil,  and  all  that  were  with 
them   in    the    room,  to    follow    him,   when    he    led    them  to 


9o  SCARRON 

the  chamber  where  Don  Ferdinand  was  shut  up  with  Vic- 
toria. They  commanded  the  door  to  be  opened  in  the 
King's  name.  Don  Ferdinand  letting  them  in,  and  seeing 
DonPedro,  attended  by  the  commissary,  told  them,  with  a 
great  deal  of  confidence,  that  he  was  with  his  wife  Elvira 
de  Sylva.  Don  Pedro  answered  he  was  mistaken,  his 
daughter  being  married  to  another  ;  *  and  as  for  you,  •  added 
he,  "you  cannot  deny  but  that  Victoria  Portocarrero  is 
your  lawful  wife."  Victoria  then  discovered  herself  to  her 
faithless  gallant,  who  remained  full  of  confusion.  She  ex- 
postulated his  ingratitude  with  him,  to  whom  his  silence 
was  his  only  plea,  as  well  as  to  the  commissary,  who  told 
him  he  could  do  no  less  than  carry  him  to  prison.  In 
short,  his  remorse  of  conscience,  and  fear  of  imprisonment, 
together  with  Don  Pedro's  exhortations,  who  minded  him 
of  his  honor  and  reputation,  joined  to  Victoria's  tears  and 
beauty,  nothing  inferior  to  that  of  Elvira,  and,  above  all 
the  rest,  some  sparks  of  generosity  still  remaining  in  his 
heart,  notwithstanding  his  debaucheries  and  youthful  follies, 
made  him  at  length,  with  reason  and  justice,  to  yield  to 
Victoria's  bright  charms.  He  tenderly  embraced  her,  she 
being  likely  to  swoon  in  his  arms,  which  no  doubt  but  his 
warm  kisses  preserved  her  from.  Don  Pedro,  Don  Diego,  and 
fair  Elvira  shared  in  Victoria's  happiness,  and  Santillane 
and  Beatrix  were  ready  to  die  for  joy.  Don  Pedro  very 
much  commended  Don  Ferdinand  for  thus  nobly  repairing 
the  wrongs  he  had  committed.  The  two  young  ladies  em- 
braced each  other  with  as  great  testimonies  of  love  as  if 
they  had  hugged  their  own  husbands.  Don  Diego  de  Ma- 
radas  made  a  thousand  protestations  of  his  obedience  to 
his  father-in-law,  or  he  that  should  be  so  in  a  short  time. 
Don  Pedro,  before  he  went  home  with  his  daughter,  made 
them  to  promise  that  they  would  all  come  and  dine  the 
next  day  at  his  house,  where  for  fifteen  days  together  he 
endeavored,  by  solemn  rejoicings,  to  dispel  the  thoughts  of 
their  past  troubles.  The  alguazil  was  invited  too,  who 
promised  to  be  there.  Don  Pedro  took  him  along  with  him  ; 
and  Don  Ferdinand  remained  with  Victoria,  who  now  had 
as  much  reason  to  bless  her  good  fortune,  as  she  formerly 
had  to  curse  her  evil. 


SENTIMENT 


VOLNEY 

The  Ruins  of  Empires 


(9D 


SENTIMENT 


COUNT  VOENEY 

Volney' s  work,  here  represented,  is  a  thoroughly  French 
inspiration,  peculiarly  illustrative  of  the  tone  and  tem- 
per of  the  later  eighteenth  century  thought,  and  of 
the  affected  style  of  the  day.  Behind  its  sounding  periods 
there  is  nobility  of  conception  and  great  power  of  expres- 
sion. The  author  was  a  man  of  mark  in  more  ways  than 
one. 

Constantin  Francois  Chasseboeuf  Volney,  born  in  1757, 
was  able  to  spend  several  early  years  in  Egypt  and  Syria, 
where  his  studies  qualified  him  for  the  writing  of  scholarly 
books  and  for  active  work  as  a  member  of  the  States- 
General.  "The  Ruins  of  Empires  *  appeared  in  1791. 
The  writer  finds  himself  among  the  ruins  of  Palmyra, 
which  move  him  to  ponder  the  rise  of  nations  to  greatness 
and  the  causes  of  their  decadence  and  extinction.  Biased 
though  he  was  by  the  dominant  cast  of  philosophic  thought 
of  his  time,  there  is  a  loftiness  of  view  and  utterance  in 
his  meditations  that  cannot  but  impress  the  reader  with 
admiration  and  respect.  The  theme  is  as  fascinating  now 
as  ever  and  the  moral  awaits  consideration  by  the  wisest 
in  the  nations. 

Volney  tried  the  experiment  of  developing  trade  in  colo- 
nial products,  buying  an  estate  in  Corsica  for  that  purpose. 
His  zeal  for  political  reforms  landed  him  in  prison,  where 
he  spent  ten  months  during  the  reign  of  terror.  Eater  he 
became  professor  of  history  in  the  Ecole  Normale,  and  pub- 
lished his  lectures,  which  had  conspicuous  merit  and  cour- 
age. Then  he  visited  the  United  States,  the  only  printed 
outcome  being  a  work  on  the  soil  and  climate. 

(93) 


94  COUNT   VOLNEY 

As  a  scholar,  rather  than  for  his  political  eminence,  Na- 
poleon made  Volney  a  count  and  senator.  Later  honors 
came  to  him  in  being  made  a  member  of  the  Institute  and 
Academy  and  a  peer  of  France.  He  died  in  1825,  leaving 
a  fund  to  insure  the  publication  of  his  philosophical  essays, 
in  which  he  urged  the  promotion  of  the  study  of  Oriental 
languages  as  the  surest  means  of  bringing  the  nations  into 
closer,  if  not  fraternal,  relations. 


THE   RUINS   OF   EMPIRES 


THE  JOURNEY 

In  Thk  eleventh  year  of  the  reign  of  Abd-ul-Hamid,  son 
of  Ahmid,  emperor  of  the  Turks ;  when  the  Nogais- 
Tartars  were  driven  from  the  Crimea,  and  a  Mussul- 
man prince  of  the  blood  of  Gengis-Kahn  became  the  vassal 
and  guard  of  a  Christian  woman  and  queen,  I  was  travel- 
ing in  the  Ottoman  dominions,  and  through  those  prov- 
inces which  were  anciently  the  kingdoms  of  Egypt  and 
Syria. 

My  whole  attention  bent  on  whatever  concerns  the  hap- 
piness of  man  in  a  social  state,  I  visited  cities,  and  studied 
the  manners  of  their  inhabitants  ;  entered  palaces,  and  ob- 
served the  conduct  of  those  who  govern ;  wandered  over 
fields,  and  examined  the  condition  of  those  who  cultivated 
them  :  and  nowhere  perceiving  aught  but  robbery  and  de- 
vastation, tyranny,  and  wretchedness,  my  heart  was  oppressed 
with  sorrow  and  indignation. 

I  saw  daily  on  my  road  fields  abandoned,  villages  de- 
serted, and  cities  in  ruin.  Often  I  met  with  ancient  monu- 
ments, wrecks  of  temples,  palaces  and  fortresses,  columns, 
aqueducts,  and  tombs.  This  spectacle  led  me  to  meditate 
on  times  past,  and  filled  my  mind  with  contemplations  the 
most  serious  and  profound. 

Arrived  at  the  city  of  Hems,  on  the  border  of  the  Oron- 
tes,  and  being  in  the  neighborhood  of  Palmyra  of  the 
desert,  I  resolved  to  visit  its  celebrated  ruins.  After  three 
days  journeying  through  arid  deserts,  having  traversed  the 
Valley  of  Caves  and  Sepulchres,  on  issuing   into  the  plain, 

(95) 


96  VOLNEY 

I  was  suddenly  struck  with  a  scene  of  the  most  stupend- 
ous ruins  —  a  countless  multitude  of  superb  columns,  stretch- 
ing in  avenues  beyond  the  reach  of  sight.  Among  them 
were  magnificent  edifices,  some  entire,  others  in  ruins  ;  the 
earth  every  where  strewed  with  fragments  of  cornices,  capi- 
tals, shafts,  entablatures,  pilasters,  all  of  white  marble,  and 
of  the  most  exquisite  workmanship.  After  a  walk  of  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  along  these  ruins,  I  entered  the  enclos- 
ure of  a  vast  edifice,  formerly  a  temple  dedicated  to  the 
Sun ;  and  accepting  the  hospitality  of  some  poor  Arabian 
peasants,  who  had  built  their  hovels  on  the  area  of  the 
temple,  I  determined  to  devote  some  days  to  contemplate  at 
leisure  the  beauty  of  these  stupendous  ruins. 

Daily  I  visited  the  monuments  which  covered  the  plain  ; 
and  one  evening,  absorbed  in  reflection,  I  had  advanced  to 
the  Valley  of  Sepulchres.  I  ascended  the  heights  which 
surround  it  from  whence  the  eye  commands  the  whole 
group  of  ruins  and  the  immensity  of  the  desert.  The  sun 
had  sunk  below  the  horizon  :  a  red  border  of  light  still 
marked  his  track  behind  the  distant  mountains  of  Syria  ; 
the  full-orbed  moon  was  rising  in  the  east,  on  a  blue 
ground,  over  the  plains  of  the  Euphrates ;  the  sky  was 
clear,  the  air  calm  and  serene  ;  the  dying  lamp  of  day  still 
softened  the  horrors  of  approaching  darkness  :  the  refresh- 
ing night  breezes  attempered  the  sultry  emanations  from 
the  heated  earth  ;  the  herdsmen  had  given  their  camels  to 
repose,  the  eye  perceived  no  motion  on  the  dusky  and  uni- 
form plain  ;  profound  silence  rested  on  the  desert  ;  the 
howlings  only  of  the  jackal,  and  the  solemn  notes  of  the 
bird  of  night,  were  heard  at  distant  intervals.  Darkness 
now  increased,  and  through  the  dusk  could  only  be  dis- 
cerned the  pale  phantasms  of  columns  and  walls.  The  soli- 
tude of  the  place,  the  tranquillity  of  the  hour,  the  majesty 
of  the  scene,  impressed  on  my  mind  a  religious  pensiveness. 
The  aspect  of  a  great  city  deserted,  the  memory  of  times 
past,  compared  with  its  present  state,  all  elevated  my  mind 
to  high  contemplations.  I  sat  on  the  shaft  of  a  column, 
my  elbow  reposing  on  my  knee,  and  head  reclining  on  my 
hand,  my  eyes  fixed,  sometimes  on  the  desert,  sometimes 
on  the  ruins,  and  fell  into  a  profound  reverie. 


THE   RUINS   OF  EMPIRES  97 


THE  REVERIE 

HERE,  said  I,  once  flourished  an  opulent  city  ;  here  was 
the  seat  of  a  powerful  empire.  Yes !  these  places 
now  so  wild  and  desolate,  were  once  animated  by  a 
living  multitude ;  a  busy  crowd  thronged  in  these  streets, 
now  so  solitary.  Within  these  walls,  where  now  reigns  the 
silence  of  death,  the  noise  of  the  arts,  and  the  shouts  of  joy 
and  festivity  incessantly  resounded ;  these  piles  of  marble 
were  regular  palaces  ;  these  fallen  columns  adorned  the 
majesty  of  temples ;  these  ruined  galleries  surrounded  public 
places.  Here  assembled  a  numerous  people  for  the  sacred 
duties  of  their  religion,  and  the  anxious  cares  of  their  sub- 
sistence ;  here  industry,  parent  of  enjoyments,  collected  the 
riches  of  all  climes,  and  the  purple  of  Tyre  was  exchanged 
for  the  precious  thread  of  Serica  ;  the  soft  tissues  of  Cassi- 
mere  for  the  sumptuous  tapestry  of  Lydia ;  the  amber  of 
the  Baltic  for  the  pearls  and  perfumes  of  Arabia ;  the  gold 
of  Ophir  for  the  tin  of  Thule. 

And  now  behold  what  remains  of  this  powerful  city :  a 
miserable  skeleton  !  What  of  its  vast  domination  :  a  doubt- 
ful and  obscure  remembrance !  To  the  noisy  concourse 
which  thronged  under  these  porticoes,  succeeds  the  solitude 
of  death.  The  silence  of  the  grave  is  substituted  for  the 
busy  hum  of  public  places  ;  the  affluence  of  a  commercial 
city  is  changed  into  wretched  poverty  ;  the  palaces  of  kings 
have  become  a  den  of  wild  beasts ;  flocks  repose  in  the  area 
of  temples,  and  savage  reptiles  inhabit  the  sanctuary  of  the 
gods.  Ah  !  how  has  so  much  glory  been  eclipsed  ?  how 
have  so  many  labors  been  annihilated  ?  Do  thus  perish 
then  the  wyorks  of  men  —  thus  vanish  empires  and  nations  ? 

And  the  history  of  former  times  revived  in  my  mind ;  I 
remembered  those  ancient  ages  when  many  illustrious  na- 
tions inhabited  these  countries ;  I  figured  to  myself  the  As- 
syrian on  the  banks  of  the  Tigris,  the  Chaldean  on  the 
banks  of  the  Euphrates,  the  Persian  reigning  from  the  In- 
dus to  the  Mediterranean.  I  enumerated  the  kingdoms  of 
Damascus  and  Idumea,  of  Jerusalem  and  Samaria,  the  war- 
7 


98  VOLNEY 

like  states  of  the  Philistines,  and  the  commercial  republics 
of  Phoenicia.  This  Syria,  said  I,  now  so  depopulated,  then 
contained  a  hundred  flourishing  cities,  and  abounded  with 
towns,  villages,  and  hamlets.  In  all  parts  were  seen  culti- 
vated fields,  frequented  roads,  and  crowded  habitations. 
Ah  !  whither  have  flown  those  ages  of  life  and  abundance? 
—  whither  vanished  those  brilliant  creations  of  human  in- 
dustry? Where  are  those  ramparts  of  Nineveh,  those  walls 
of  Babylon,  those  palaces  of  Persepolis,  those  temples  of 
Balbec  and  of  Jerusalem?  Where  are  those  fleets  of  Tyre, 
those  dock-yards  of  Arad,  those  work-shops  of  Sidon,  and 
that  multitude  of  sailors,  of  pilots,  of  merchants,  and  of 
soldiers?  Where  those  husbandmen,  harvests,  flocks,  and 
all  the  creation  of  living  beings  in  which  the  face  of  the 
earth  rejoiced  ?  Alas !  I  have  passed  over  this  desolate 
land  I  I  have  visited  the  palaces,  once  the  scene  of  so  much 
splendor,  and  I  beheld  nothing  but  solitude  and  desolation. 
I  sought  the  ancient  inhabitants  and  their  works,  and  found 
nothing  but  a  trace,  like  the  foot-prints  of  a  traveler  over 
the  sand.  The  temples  are  fallen,  the  palaces  overthrown, 
the  ports  filled  up,  the  cities  destroyed  ;  and  the  earth, 
stripped  of  inhabitants,  has  become  a  place  of  sepulchres. 
Great  God  !  whence  proceed  such  fatal  revolutions?  What 
causes  have  so  changed  the  fortunes  of  these  countries? 
Wherefore  are  so  many  cities  destroyed  ?  Why  has  not  this 
ancient  population  been  reproduced  and  perpetuated? 

Thus  absorbed  in  meditation,  a  crowd  of  new  reflections 
continually  poured  in  upon  my  mind.  Every  thing,  con- 
tinued I,  bewilders  my  judgment,  and  fills  my  heart  with 
trouble  and  uncertainty.  When  these  countries  enjoyed 
what  constitutes  the  glory  and  happiness  of  man,  they  were 
inhabited  by  infidel  nations  :  It  was  the  Phoenician,  offering 
human  sacrifices  to  Moloch,  who  gathered  into  his  stores 
the  riches  of  all  climates  ;  it  was  the  Chaldean,  prostrate 
before  his  serpent-god,  who  subjugated  opulent  cities,  laid 
waste  the  palaces  of  kings,  and  despoiled  the  temples  of 
the  gods  ;  it  was  the  Persian,  worshiper  of  fire,  who  re- 
ceived the  tribute  of  a  hundred  nations ;  they  were  the  in- 
habitants of  this  very  city,  adorers  of  the  sun  and  stars, 
who  erected  so  many  monuments  of  prosperity  and  luxury. 


THE   RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  99 

Numerous  herds,  fertile  fields,  abundant  harvests  —  what- 
soever should  be  the  reward  of  piety  —  was  in  the  hands  of 
these  idolaters.  And  now,  when  a  people  of  saints  and  be- 
lievers occupy  these  fields,  all  is  become  sterility  and  soli- 
tude. The  earth,  under  these  holy  hands,  produces  only 
thorns  and  briers.  Man  soweth  in  anguish,  and  reapeth 
tears  and  cares.  War,  famine,  pestilence,  assail  .him  by 
turns.  And  yet,  are  not  these  the  children  of  the  prophets  ? 
The  Mussulman,  Christian,  Jew,  are  the}'-  not  the  elect 
children  of  God,  loaded  with  favors  and  miracles?  Why, 
then,  do  these  privileged  races  no  longer  enjoy  the  same 
advantages?  Why  are  these  fields,  sanctified  by  the  blood 
of  martyrs,  deprived  of  their  ancient  fertility?  Why  have 
those  blessings  been  banished  hence,  and  transferred  for  so 
many  ages  to  other  nations  and  different  climes? 

At  these  words,  revolving  in  my  mind  the  vicissitudes 
which  have  transmitted  the  sceptre  of  the  world  to  people 
so  different  in  religion  and  manners  from  those  in  ancient 
Asia  to  the  most  recent  of  Europe,  this  name  of  a  natal 
land  revived  in  me  the  sentiment  of  my  country ;  and  turn- 
ing my  eyes  toward  France,  I  began  to  reflect  on  the 
situation  in  which  I  had  left  her  in  1782. 

I  recalled  her  fields  so  richly  cultivated,  her  roads  so  ad- 
mirably constructed,  her  cities  inhabited  by  a  countless 
people,  her  fleets  spread  over  every  sea,  her  ports  filled 
with  the  produce  of  both  the  Indies  :  and  then  comparing 
the  activity  of  her  commerce,  the  extent  of  her  navigation, 
the  magnificence  of  her  buildings,  the  arts  and  industry  of 
her  inhabitants,  with  what  Egypt  and  Syria  had  once  pos- 
sessed, I  was  gratified  to  find  in  modern  Europe  the  de- 
parted splendor  of  Asia  ;  but  the  charm  of  my  reverie  was 
soon  dissolved  by  a  last  term  of  comparison.  Reflecting 
that  such  had  once  been  the  activity  of  the  places  I  was 
then  contemplating,  who  knows,  said  I,  but  such  may  one 
day  be  the  abandonment  of  our  countries?  Who  knows  if 
on  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  the  Thames,  the  Zuyder-Zee, 
where  now,  in  the  tumult  of  so  many  enjoyments,  the 
heart  and  the  eye  suffice  not  for  the  multitude  of  sensa- 
tions,— -  who  knows  if  some  traveler,  like  myself,  shall  not 
one  day  sit  on  their  silent  ruins,  and  weep  in  solitude  over 


loo  VOLNEY 

the  ashes  of  their  inhabitants,  and  the  memory  of  their 
former  greatness. 

At  these  words,  my  eyes  filled  with  tears :  and  covering 
my  head  with  the  fold  of  my  mantle,  I  sank  into  gloomy 
meditations  on  all  human  affairs.  Ah  !  hapless  man,  said  I 
in  my  grief,  a  blind  fatality  sports  with  thy  destiny  !  A 
fatal  necessity  rules  with  the  hand  of  chance  the  lot  of 
mortals  !  But  no :  it  is  the  justice  of  heaven  fulfilling  its 
decrees  !  —  a  God  of  mystery  exercising  his  incomprehen- 
sible judgments !  Doubtless  he  has  pronounced  a  secret 
anathema  against  this  land  :  blasting  with  maledictions  the 
present,  for  the  sins  of  past  generations.  Oh  !  who  shall 
dare  to  fathom  the  depths  of  the  Omnipotent  ? 

And  sunk  in  profound  melancholy,  I  remained  motionless. 


SOURCES   OF  THE  EVILS  OF  SOCIETY 

In  truth,  scarcely  were  the  faculties  of  men  developed, 
when,  inveigled  by  objects  which  gratify  the  senses, 
they  gave  themselves  up  to  unbridled  desires.  The 
sweet  sensations  which  nature  had  attached  to  their  real 
wants,  to  endear  to  them  their  existence,  no  longer  satisfied 
them.  Not  content  with  the  abundance  offered  by  the 
earth  or  produced  by  industry,  they  wished  to  accumulate 
enjoyments,  and  coveted  those  possessed  by  their  fellow 
men.  The  strong  man  rose  up  against  the  feeble  to  take 
from  him  the  fruit  of  his  labor ;  the  feeble  invoked  another 
feeble  one  to  repel  the  violence.  Two  strong  ones  then 
said  : — 

(<  Why  fatigue  ourselves  to  produce  enjoyments  which  we 
may  find  in  the  hands  of  the  weak?  Let  us  join  and  de- 
spoil them ;  they  shall  labor  for  us,  and  we  will  enjoy 
without  labor. w 

And  the  strong  associating  for  oppression,  and  the  weak 
for  resistance,  men  mutually  afflicted  each  other ;  and  a 
general  and  fatal  discord  spread  over  the  earth,  in  which 
the  passions,  assuming  a  thousand  new  forms,  have  gener- 
ated a  continued  chain  of  misfortunes. 


THE   RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  101 

Thus  the  same  self-love  which,  moderate  and  prudent, 
was  a  principle  of  happiness  and  perfection,  becoming  blind 
and  disordered,  was  transformed  into  a  corrupting  poison  ; 
and  cupidity,  offspring  and  companion  of  ignorance,  became 
the  cause  of  all  the  evils  that  have  desolated  the  earth. 

Yes,  ignorance  and  cupidity  !  these  are  the  twin  sources 
of  all  the  torments  of  man  !  Biased  by  these  into  false 
ideas  of  happiness,  he  has  mistaken  or  broken  the  laws  of 
nature  in  his  own  relation  with  external  objects ;  and  in- 
juring his  own  existence,  has  violated  individual  morality  ; 
shutting  through  these  his  heart  to  compassion,  and  his 
mind  to  justice,  he  has  injured  and  afflicted  his  equal,  and 
violated  social  morality.  From  ignorance  and  cupidity, 
man  has  armed  against  man,  family  against  family,  tribe 
against  tribe ;  and  the  earth  is  become  a  theatre  of  blood, 
of  discord,  and  of  rapine.  By  ignorance  and  cupidity,  a 
secret  war,  fermenting  in  the  bosom  of  every  state,  has 
separated  citizen  from  citizen ;  and  the  same  society  has 
divided  itself  into  oppressors  and  oppressed,  into  masters 
and  slaves  ;  by  these,  the  heads  of  a  nation,  sometimes  in- 
solent and  audacious,  have  forged  its  chains  within  its  own 
bowels ;  and  mercenary  avarice  has  founded  political  des- 
potism. Sometimes,  hypocritical  and  cunning,  they  have 
called  from  heaven  a  lying  power,  and  a  sacrilegious  yoke ; 
and  credulous  cupidity  has  founded  religious  despotism. 
By  these  have  been  perverted  the  ideas  of  good  and  evil, 
just  and  unjust,  vice  and  virtue;  and  nations  have  wan- 
dered in  a  labyrinth  of  errors  and  calamities. 

The  cupidity  of  man  and  his  ignorance, —  these  are  the 
evil  genii  which  have  wasted  the  earth  !  These  are  the  de- 
crees of  fate  which  have  overthrown  empires  !  These  are 
the  celestial  anathemas  which  have  smitten  these  walls  once 
so  glorious,  and  converted  the  splendor  of  a  populous  city 
into  a  solitude  of  mourning  and  of  ruins  !  But  as  in  the 
bosom  of  man  has  sprung  all  the  evils  which  have  afflicted 
his  life,  there  he  also  is  to  seek  and  to  find  their  remedies. 


ioa  VOLNEY 


ORIGIN   OF   GOVERNMENT  AND   LAWS 

In  fact,  it  soon  happened  that  men,  fatigued  with  the 
evils  they  reciprocally  inflicted,  began  to  sigh  for 
peace ;  and  reflecting  on  their  misfortunes  and  the  causes 
of  them,  they  said :  — 

(<  We  are  mutually  injuring  each  other  by  our  passions ; 
and,  aiming  to  grasp  every  thing,  we  hold  nothing.  What 
one  seizes  to-day,  another  takes  to-morrow,  and  our  cu- 
pidity reacts  upon  ourselves.  I^et  us  establish  judges,  who 
shall  arbitrate  our  rights,  and  settle  our  differences.  When 
the  strong  shall  rise  against  the  weak,  the  judge  shall  re- 
strain him,  and  dispose  of  our  force  to  suppress  violence ; 
and  the  life  and  property  of  each  shall  be  under  the  guar- 
antee and  protection  of  all ;  and  all  shall  enjoy  the  good 
things  of  nature.® 

Conventions  were  thus  formed  in  society,  sometimes  ex- 
press, sometimes  tacit,  which  became  the  rule  for  the  action 
of  individuals,  the  measure  of  their  rights,  the  law  of  their 
reciprocal  relations ;  and  persons  were  appointed  to  super- 
intend their  observance,  to  whom  the  people  confided  the 
balance  to  weigh  rights,  and  the  sword  to  punish  trans- 
gressions. 

Thus  was  established  among  individuals  a  happy  equilib- 
rium of  force  and  action,  which  constituted  the  common 
security.  The  name  of  equity  and  of  justice  was  recognized 
and  revered  over  the  earth  ;  every  one,  assured  of  enjoy- 
ing in  peace,  the  fruits  of  his  toil,  pursued  with  energy 
the  objects  of  his  attention ;  and  industry,  excited  and 
maintained  by  the  reality  or  the  hope  of  enjoyment,  de- 
veloped all  the  riches  of  art  and  of  nature.  The  fields 
were  covered  with  harvests,  the  valleys  with  flocks,  the 
hills  with  fruits,  the  sea  with  vessels,  and  man  became 
happy  and  powerful  on  the  earth.  Thus  did  his  own  wis- 
dom repair  the  disorder  which  his  imprudence  had  oc- 
casioned ;  and  that  wisdom  was  only  the  effect  of  his  own 
organization.  He  respected  the  enjoyments  of  others  in 
order  to  secure  his  own  ;  and  cupidity  found  its  corrective 
in  the  enlightened  love  of  self. 


THE   RUINS  OF   EMPIRES  103 

Thus  the  love  of  self,  the  moving  principle  of  every  in- 
dividual, becomes  the  necessary  foundation  of  every  asso- 
ciation ;  and  on  the  observance  of  that  law  of  our  nature 
has  depended  the  fate  of  nations.  Have  the  factitious  and 
conventional  laws  tended  to  that  object  and  accomplished 
that  aim?  Every  one,  urged  by  a  powerful  instinct,  has 
displayed  all  the  faculties  of  his  being  ;  and  the  sum  of 
individual  felicities  has  constituted  the  general  felicity. 
Have  these  laws,  on  the  contrary,  restrained  the  effort  of 
man  toward  his  own  happiness  ?  His  heart,  deprived  of 
its  exciting  principle,  has  languished  in  inactivity,  and  from 
the  oppression  of  individuals  has  resulted  the  weakness  of 
the  state. 

As  self-love,  impetuous  and  improvident,  is  ever  urging 
man  against  his  equal,  and  consequently  tends  to  dissolve 
society,  the  art  of  legislation  and  the  merit  of  adminis- 
trators consists  in  attempering  the  conflict  of  individual 
cupidities,  in  maintaining  an  equilibrium  of  powers,  and 
securing  to  every  one  his  happiness,  in  order  that,  in  the 
shock  of  society  against  society,  all  the  members  may  have 
a  common  interest  in  the  preservation  and  defense  of  the 
public  welfare. 

The  internal  splendor  and  prosperity  of  empires  then, 
have  had  for  their  efficient  cause  the  equity  of  their  laws 
and  government ;  and  their  respective  external  powers  have 
been  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  persons  interested, 
and  their  degree  of  interest  in  the  public  welfare. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  multiplication  of  men,  by  com- 
plicating their  relations,  having  rendered  the  precise  limita- 
tion of  their  rights  difficult,  the  perpetual  play  of  the 
passions  having  produced  incidents  not  foreseen  —  their 
conventions  having  been  vicious,  inadequate,  or  nugatory  — 
in  fine,  the  authors  of  the  laws  having  sometimes  mistaken, 
sometimes  disguised  their  objects  ;  and  their  ministers, 
instead  of  restraining  the  cupidity  of  others,  having  given 
themselves  up  to  their  own ;  all  these  causes  have  in- 
troduced disorder  and  trouble  into  societies ;  and  the 
viciousness  of  laws  and  the  injustice  of  governments,  flow- 
ing from  cupidity  and  ignorance,  have  become  the  causes 
of  the  misfortunes  of  nations,  and  the  subversion  of  states. 


io4  j  VOLNEY 


GENERAL     CAUSES     OF     THE      PROSPERITY    OF 
ANCIENT   STATES 

Such,  O  man  who  seekest  wisdom,  such  have  been  the 
causes  of  revolution  in  the  ancient  states  of  which 
thou  contemplatest  the  ruins !  To  whatever  spot  I 
direct  my  view,  to  whatever  period  my  thoughts  recur,  the 
same  principles  of  growth  or  destruction,  of  rise  or  fall, 
present  themselves  to  my  mind.  Wherever  a  people  is 
powerful,  or  an  empire  prosperous,  there  the  conventional 
laws  are  conformable  with  the  laws  of  nature  —  the  govern- 
ment there  procures  for  its  citizens  a  free  use  of  their 
faculties,  equal  security  for  their  persons  and  property.  If, 
on  the  contrary,  an  empire  goes  to  ruin,  or  dissolves,  it 
is  because  its  laws  have  been  vicious,  or  imperfect,  or 
trodden  under  foot  by  a  corrupt  government.  If  the  laws 
and  government,  at  first  wise  and  just,  become  afterward 
depraved,  it  is  because  the  alternation  of  good  and  evil  is 
inherent  to  the  heart  of  man,  to  a  change  in  his  propen- 
sities, to  his  progress  in  knowledge,  to  a  combination  of 
circumstances  and  events;  as  is  proved  by  the  history  of 
the  species. 

In  the  infancy  of  nations,  when  men  yet  lived  in  the  for- 
est, subject  to  the  same  wants,  endowed  with  the  same 
faculties,  all  were  nearly  equal  in  strength  ;  and  that  equal- 
ity was  a  circumstance  highly  advantageous  in  the  compo- 
sition of  society :  as  every  individual,  thus  feeling  himself 
sufficiently  independent  of  every  other,  no  one  was  the 
slave,  none  thought  of  being  the  master  of  another.  Man, 
then  a  novice,  knew  neither  servitude  nor  tyranny ;  fur- 
nished with  resources  sufficient  for  his  existence,  he  thought 
not  of  borrowing  from  others ;  owning  nothing,  requiring 
nothing,  he  judged  the  rights  of  others  by  his  own,  and 
formed  ideas  of  justice  sufficiently  exact.  Ignorant,  more- 
over, in  the  art  of  enjoyments,  unable  to  produce  more  than 
his  necessaries,  possessing  nothing  superfluous,  cupidity  re- 
mained dormant ;  or  if  excited,  man,  attacked  in  his  real  wants, 
resisted  it  with  energy,  and  the  foresight  of  such  resistance 
ensured  a  happy  balance. 


THE   RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  105 

Thus  original  equality,  in  default  of  compact,  maintained 
freedom  of  person,  security  of  property,  good  manners,  and 
order.  Every  one  labored  by  himself  and  for  himself  ;  and 
the  mind  of  man,  being  occupied,  wandered  not  to  culpable 
desires.  He  had  few  enjoyments,  but  his  wants  were  satis- 
fied ;  and  as  indulgent  nature  had  made  them  less  than  his 
resources,  the  labor  of  his  hands  soon  produced  abundance 
—  abundance,  population;  the  arts  unfolded,  culture  ex- 
tended, and  the  earth,  covered  with  numerous  inhabitants, 
was  divided  into  different  dominions. 

The  relations  of  man  becoming  complicated,  the  internal 
order  of  societies  became  more  difficult  to  maintain.  Time 
and  industry  having  generated  riches,  cupidity  became  more 
active ;  and  because  equality,  practicable  among  individuals, 
could  not  subsist  among  families,  the  natural  equilibrium 
was  broken ;  it  became  necessary  to  supply  it  by  a  factitious 
equilibrium  ;  to  set  up  chiefs,  to  establish  laws  ;  and  in  the 
primitive  inexperience,  it  necessarily  happened  that  these 
laws,  occasioned  by  cupidity,  assumed  its  character.  But 
different  circumstances  concurred  to  correct  the  disorder,  and 
oblige  governments  to  be  just. 

States,  in  fact,  being  weak  at  first,  and  having  foreign 
enemies  to  fear,  the  chiefs  found  it  their  interest  not  to  op- 
press their  subjects  ;  for,  by  lessening  the  confidence  of  the 
citizens  in  their  government,  they  would  diminish  their  means 
of  resistance — they  would  facilitate  foreign  invasion,  and 
by  exercising  arbitrary  power,  have  endangered  their  very 
existence. 

In  the  interior,  the  firmness  of  the  people  repelled 
tyranny  ;  men  had  contracted  too  long  habits  of  independ- 
ence ;  they  had  too  few  wants,  and  too  much  conscious- 
ness of  their  own  strength. 

States  being  of  a  moderate  size,  it  was  difficult  to  divide 
their  citizens  so  as  to  make  use  of  some  for  the  oppression 
of  others.  Their  communications  were  too  easy,  their  in- 
terest too  clear  and  simple  :  besides,  every  one  being  a  pro- 
prietor and  cultivator,  no  one  needed  to  sell  himself,  and 
the  despot  could  find  no  mercenaries. 

If,  then  dissension  arose,  they  were  between  family  and 
family,    faction    and    faction,    and   they    interested    a   great 


106  VOLNEY 

number.  The  troubles,  indeed,  were  warmer  ;  but  fears  from 
abroad  pacified  discord  at  home.  If  the  oppression  of  a  party 
prevailed,  the  earth  being  still  unoccupied,  and  man,  still  in 
a  state  of  simplicity,  finding  every  where  the  same  advan- 
tages, the  oppressed  party  emigrated,  and  carried  elsewhere 
their  independence. 

The  ancient  states  then  enjoyed  within  themselves  numerous 
means  of  prosperity  and  power.  Every  one  finding  his  own 
well-being  in  the  constitution  of  his  country,  took  a  lively 
interest  in  its  preservation.  If  a  stranger  attacked  it,  hav- 
ing to  defend  his  own  field,  his  own  house,  he  carried  into 
combat  all  the  passions  of  a  personal  quarrel ;  and,  devoted 
to  his  own  interests,  he  was  devoted  to  his  country. 

As  every  action  useful  to  the  public  attracted  its  esteem 
and  gratitude,  every  one  became  eager  to  be  useful ;  and 
self-love  multiplied  talents  and  civic  virtues. 

Every  citizen  contributing  equally  by  his  talents  and 
person,  armies  and  funds  were  inexhaustible,  and  nations 
displayed  formidable  masses  of  power. 

The  earth  being  free,  and  its  possession  secure  and  easy, 
every  one  was  a  proprietor ;  and  the  division  of  property 
preserved  morals,  and  rendered  luxury  impossible. 

Every  one  cultivating  for  himself,  culture  was  more 
active,  produce  more  abundant ;  and  individual  riches  be- 
came public  wealth. 

The  abundance  of  produce  rendering  subsistence  easy, 
population  was  rapid  and  numerous,  and  states  attained 
quickly  the  term  of  their  plentitude. 

Productions  increasing  beyond  consumption,  the  necessity 
of  commerce  arose ;  and  exchanges  took  place  between 
people  and  people  ;  which  augmented  their  activity  and  re- 
ciprocal advantages. 

In  fine,  certain  countries,  at  certain  times,  uniting  the 
advantages  of  good  government  with  a  position  on  the 
route  of  the  most  active  circulation,  they  became  empori- 
ums of  flourishing  commerce  and  seats  of  powerful  domina- 
tion. And  on  the  shores  of  the  Nile  and  Mediterranean, 
of  the  Tigris  and  Euphrates,  the  accumulated  riches  of 
India  and  of  Europe  raised  in  successive  splendor  a  hun- 
dred different  cities. 


THE   RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  107 

The  people,  growing  rich,  applied  their  superfluity  to 
works  of  common  and  public  use ;  and  this  was  in  every 
state,  the  epoch  of  those  works  whose  grandeur  astonishes 
the  mind ;  of  those  wells  of  Tyre,  of  those  dykes  of  the 
Euphrates,  of  those  subterranean  conduits  of  Media,*  of 
those  fortresses  of  the  desert,  of  those  aqueducts  of  Pal- 
myra, of  those  temples,  of  those  porticoes.  And  such 
labors  might  be   immense,  without   oppressing   the  nations ; 

*  From  the  town  or  village  of  Samouat  the  course  of  the  Euphrates 
is  accompanied  with  a  double  bank,  which  descends  as  far  as  its 
junction  with  the  Tigris,  and  from  thence  to  the  sea,  being  a  length 
of  about  a  hundred  leagues,  French  measure.  The  height  of  these 
artificial  banks  is  not  uniform,  but  increases  as  you  advance  from 
the  sea ;  it  may  be  estimated  at  from  twelve  to  fifteen  feet.  But  for 
them,  the  inundation  of  the  river  would  bury  the  country  around, 
which  is  flat,  to  an  extent  of  twenty  or  twenty-five  leagues ;  and 
even  notwithstanding  these  banks,  there  has  been  in  modern  times 
an  overflow,  which  has  covered  the  whole  triangle  formed  by  the 
junction  of  this  river  to  the  Tigris,  being  a  space  of  country  of  one 
hundred  and  thirty  square  leagues.  By  the  stagnation  of  these 
waters  an  epidemical  disease  of  the  most  fatal  nature  was  occasioned. 
It  follows  from  hence,  1.  That  all  the  flat  country  bordering  upon 
these  rivers,  was  originally  a  marsh ;  2.  That  this  marsh  could  not 
have  been  inhabited  previously  to  the  construction  of  the  banks  in 
question ;  3.  That  these  banks  could  not  have  been  the  work  but  of 
a  population  prior  as  to  date ;  and  the  elevation  of  Babylon,  there- 
fore, must  have  been  posterior  to  that  of  Nineveh,  as  I  think  I  have 
chronologically  demonstrated  in  the  memoir  above  cited. 

The  modern  Aderbidjan,  which  was  a  part  of  Medea,  the  moun- 
tains of  Koulderstan,  and  those  of  Diarbekr,  abound  with  subterra- 
nean canals,  by  means  of  which  the  ancient  inhabitants  conveyed 
water  to  their  parched  soil  in  order  to  fertilize  it.  It  was  regarded 
as  a  meritorious  act  and  a  religious  duty  prescribed  by  Zoroaster, 
who,  instead  of  preaching  celibacy,  mortifications,  and  other  pre- 
tended virtues  of  the  monkish  sort,  repeats  continually  in  the  passages 
that  are  preserved  respecting  him  in  the  Sad-der  and  the  Zendavesta  :  — 

<(That  the  action  most  pleasing  to  God  is  to  plow  and  cultivate 
the  earth,  to  water  it  with  running  streams,  to  multiply  vegetation 
and  living  beings,  to  have  numerous  flocks,  young  and  fruitful  virgins, 
a  multitude  of  children, }>  etc.,  etc. 

Among  the  aqueducts  of  Palmyra  it  appears  certain,  that,  besides 
those  which  conducted  water  from  the  neighboring  hills,  there  was 
one  which  brought  it  even  from  the  mountains  of  Syria.  It  is  to  be 
traced  a  long  way  into  the  Desert  where  it  escapes  our  search  by 
going  under  ground. 


108  VOLNEY 

because  they  were  the  effect  of  an  equal  and  common  con- 
tribution of  the  force  of  individuals  animated  and  free. 

Thus  ancient  states  prospered,  because  their  social  insti- 
tutions conformed  to  the  true  laws  of  nature  ;  and  because 
men  enjoying  liberty  and  security  for  their  persons  and  their 
property,  might  display  all  the  extent  of  their  faculties, — 
all  the  energies  of  their  self-love. 


GENERAL    CAUSES    OF    THE   REVOLUTIONS    AND 
RUIN  OF  ANCIENT  STATES 

Cupidity  had  nevertheless  excited  among  men  a  con- 
stant and  universal  conflict,  which  incessantly  prompt- 
ing individuals  and  societies  to  reciprocal  invasions, 
occasioned  successive   revolutions,  and   returning   agitations. 

And  first,  in  the  savage  and  barbarous  state  of  the  first 
men,  this  audacious  and  fierce  cupidity  produced  rapine, 
violence,  and  murder,  and  retarded  for  a  long  time  the 
progress  of  civilization. 

When  afterward  societies  began  to  be  formed,  the  effect 
of  bad  habits,  communicated  to  laws  and  governments, 
corrupted  their  institutions  and  objects,  and  established 
arbitrary  and  factitious  rights,  which  depraved  the  ideas  of 
justice,  and  the  morality  of  the  people. 

Thus  one  man  being  stronger  than  another,  their  ine- 
quality —  an  accident  of  nature  —  was  taken  for  her  law ;  * 
and  the  strong  being  able  to  take  the  life  of  the  weak,  and 
yet  sparing  him,  arrogated  over  his  person  an  abusive  right 
of  property ;  and  the  slavery  of  individuals  prepared  the 
way  for  the  slavery  of   nations. 

*  Almost  all  the  ancient  philosophers  and  politicians  have  laid  it 
down  as  a  principle  that  men  are  born  unequal,  that  nature  has  cre- 
ated some  to  be  free,  and  others  to  be  slaves.  Expressions  of  this 
kind  are  to  be  found  in  Aristotle,  and  even  in  Plato,  called  the 
divine,  doubtless  in  the  same  sense  as  the  mythological  reveries 
which  he  promulgated.  With  all  the  people  of  antiquity,  the  Gauls, 
the  Romans,  the  Athenians,  the  right  of  the  strongest  was  the  right 
of  nations ;  and  from  the  same  principle  are  derived  all  the  political 
disorders  and  public  national  crimes  that  at  present  exist. 


THE   RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  109 

Because  the  head  of  a  family  could  be  absolute  in  his 
house,  he  made  his  own  affections  and  desires  the  rule  of 
his  conduct ;  he  gave  or  resumed  his  goods  without  equal- 
ity, without  justice ;  and  paternal  despotism  laid  the  foun- 
dation of  despotism  in  government.* 

In  societies  formed  on  such  foundations,  when  time  and 
labor  had  developed  riches,  cupidity  restrained  by  the  laws, 
became  more  artful,  but  not  less  active.  Under  the  mask  of 
union  and  civil  peace,  it  fomented  in  the  bosom  of  every 
state  an  intestine  war,  in  which  the  citizens,  divided  into 
contending  corps  of  orders,  classes,  families,  unremittingly 
struggled  to  appropriate  to  themselves,  under  the  name  of 
SUPREME  power,  the  ability  to  plunder  every  thing,  and 
render  every  thing  subservient  to  the  dictates  of  their 
passions  ;  and  this  .spirit  of  encroachment,  disguised  under 
all  possible  forms,  but  always  the  same  in  its  object  and 
motives,  has  never  ceased  to  torment  the  nations. 


*Upon  this  single  expression  it  would  be  easy  to  write  a  long  and 
important  chapter.  We  might  prove  in  it,  beyond  contradiction,  that 
all  the  abuses  of  national  governments,  have  sprung  from  those  of 
domestic  government,  from  that  government  called  patriarchal,  which 
superficial  minds  have  extolled  without  having  analyzed  it.  Number- 
less facts  demonstrate,  that  with  every  infant  people,  in  every  savage 
and  barbarous  state,  the  father,  the  chief  of  the  family,  is  a  despot, 
and  a  cruel  and  insolent  despot.  The  wife  is  his  slave,  the  children 
his  servants.  This  king  sleeps  or  smokes  his  pipe,  while  his  wife 
and  daughters  perform  all  the  drudgery  of  the  house,  and  even  that 
of  tillage  and  cultivation,  as  far  as  occupations  of  this  nature  are 
practiced  in  such  societies ;  and  no  sooner  have  the  boys  acquired 
strength  than  they  are  allowed  to  beat  the  females,  and  make  them 
serve  and  wait  upon  them  as  they  do  upon  their  fathers.  Similar  to 
this  is  the  state  of  our  own  uncivilized  peasants.  In  proportion  as 
civilization  spreads,  the  manners  become  milder,  and  the  condition  of 
the  women  improves,  till,  by  a  contrary  excess,  they  arrive  at  do- 
minion, and  then  a  nation  becomes  effeminate  and  corrupt.  It  is 
remarkable  that  parental  authority  is  great  in  proportion  as  the  gov- 
ernment is  despotic.  China,  India,  and  Turkey  are  striking  examples 
of  this.  One  would  suppose  that  tyrants  gave  themselves  accomplices 
and  interested  subaltern  despots  to  maintain  their  authority.  In  op- 
position to  this  the  Romans  will  be  cited,  but  it  remains  to  be  proved 
that  the  Romans  were  men  truly  free  ;  and  their  quick  passage  from 
their  republican  despotism  to  their  abject  servility  under  the  empe- 
rors, gives  room  at  least  for  considerable  doubt  as  to  that  freedom. 


no  VOLNEY 

Sometimes,  opposing  itself  to  all  social  compact,  or  break- 
ing that  which  already  existed,  it  committed  the  inhabit- 
ants of  a  country  to  the  tumultuous  shock  of  all  their 
discords ;  and  states  thus  dissolved,  and  reduced  to  the 
condition  of  anarchy,  were  tormented  by  the  passions  of  all 
their  members. 

Sometimes  a  nation,  jealous  of  its  liberty,  having  ap- 
pointed agents  to  administer  its  government,  these  agents 
appropriated  the  powers  of  which  they  had  only  the  guar- 
dianship :  they  employed  the  public  treasures  in  corrupting 
elections,  gaining  partisans,  in  dividing  the  people  among 
themselves.  By  these  means,  from  being  temporary  they 
became  perpetual ;  from  elective,  hereditary  ;  and  the  state, 
agitated  by  the  intrigues  of  the  ambitious,  by  largesses 
from  the  rich  and  factious,  by  the  venality  of  the  poor  and 
idle,  by  the  influence  of  orators,  by  the  boldness  of  the 
wicked,  and  the  weakness  of  the  virtuous,  was  convulsed 
with  all  the  inconveniences  of  democracy. 

The  chiefs  of  some  countries,  equal  in  strength  and 
mutually  fearing  each  other,  formed  impious  pacts,  nefari- 
ous associations ;  and,  apportioning  among  themselves  all 
power,  rank,  and  honor,  unjustly  arrogated  privileges  and 
immunities ;  erected  themselves  into  separate  orders  and 
distinct  classes ;  reduced  the  people  to  their  control  ;  and, 
under  the  name  of  aristocracy,  the  state  was  tormented 
by  the  passions  of  the  wealthy  and  the  great. 

Religious  impostors,  in  other  countries,  tending  by  other 
means  to  the  same  object,  abused  the  credulity  of  the  igno- 
rant. In  the  gloom  of  their  temples,  behind  the  curtain  of 
the  altar,  they  made  their  gods  act  and  speak  ;  gave  forth 
oracles,  worked  miracles,  ordered  sacrifices,  levied  offerings, 
prescribed  endowments ;  and,  under  the  names  of  theocracy 
and  of  religion,  the  state  became  tormented  by  the  passions 
of  the  priests. 

Sometimes  a  nation,  weary  of  its  dissensions  or  of  its 
tyrants,  to  lessen  the  sources  of  evil,  submitted  to  a  single 
master ;  but  if  it  limited  his  powers,  his  sole  aim  was  to 
enlarge  them  ;  if  it  left  them  indefinite,  he  abused  the  trust 
confided  to  him ;  and,  under  the  name  of  monarchy,  the 
state  was  tormented  by  the  passions  of    kings   and   princes. 


THE    RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  m 

Then  the  factions,  availing  themselves  of  the  general  dis- 
content, flattered  the  people  with  the  hope  of  a  better 
master ;  dealt  out  gifts  and  promises,  deposed  the  despot  to 
take  his  place  ;  and  their  contests  for  the  succession,  or  its 
partition,  tormented  the  state  with  the  disorders  and  devas- 
tations of  civil  war. 

In  fine,  among  these  rivals,  one  more  adroit,  or  more  for- 
tunate, gained  the  ascendency,  and  concentrated  all  power 
within  himself.  By  a  strange  phenomenon,  a  single  indivi- 
dual mastered  millions  of  his  equals,  against  their  will  and 
without  their  consent  ;  and  the  art  of  tyranny  sprung  also 
from  cupidity, 

In  fact  observing  the  spirit  of  egotism  which  incessantly 
divides  mankind,  the  ambitious  man  fomented  it  with  dex- 
terity, flattered  the  vanity  of  one,  excited  the  jealousy  of 
another,  favored  the  avarice  of  this,  inflamed  the  resent- 
ment of  that,  and  irritated  the  passions  of  all  ;  then,  placing 
in  opposition  their  interests  and  prejudices,  he  sowed  divi- 
sion and  hatreds,  promised  to  the  poor  the  spoils  of  the 
rich,  to  the  rich  the  subjection  of  the  poor ;  threatened  one 
man  by  another,  this  class  by  that ;  and  insulating  all  by 
distrust,  created  his  strength  out  of  their  weakness,  and 
imposed  the  yoke  of  opinion,  which  they  mutually  riveted 
on  each  other.  With  the  army  he  levied  contributions,  and 
with  contributions  he  disposed  of  the  army  :  dealing  out 
wealth  and  office  on  these  principles,  he  enchained  a  whole 
people  in  indissoluble  bonds,  and  they  languished  under  the 
slow  consumption  of  despotism. 

Thus  the  same  principle,  varying  its  action  under  every 
possible  form,  was  forever  attenuating  the  consistence  of 
states,  and  an  eternal  circle  of  vicissitudes  flowed  from  an 
eternal  circle  of  passions. 

And  this  spirit  of  egotism  and  usurpation  produced  two 
effects  equally  operative  and  fatal :  the  one  of  division  and 
subdivision  of  societies  into  their  smallest  fractions,  inducing 
a  debility  which  facilitated  their  dissolution ;  the  other,  a 
preserving  tendency  to  concentrate  power  in  a  single  hand,* 

*  It  is  remarkable  that  this  has  in  all  instances  been  the  constant 
progress  of  societies  ;  beginning  with  a  state  of  anarchy  or  democracy, 
that  is,  with  a  great  division  of  power  they  have  passed  to  aristocracy, 


H2  VOLNEY 

which,  engulfing  successively  societies  and  states,  was  fatal 
to  their  peace  and  social  existence. 

Thus,  as  in  a  state,  a  party  absorbed  the  nation,  a  fam- 
ily the  party,  and  an  individual  the  family  ;  so  a  movement 
of  absorption  took  place  between  state  and  state,  and  ex- 
hibited on  a  larger  scale  in  the  political  order,  all  the  par- 
ticular evils  of  the  civil  order.  Thus  a  state  having  subdued 
a  state,  held  it  in  subjection  in  the  form  of  a  province  ; 
and  two  provinces  being  joined  together  formed  a  kingdom  ; 
two  kingdoms  being  united  by  conquest,  gave  birth  to  em- 
pires of  gigantic  size  ;  and  in  this  conglomeration,  the  in- 
ternal strength  of  states,  instead  of  increasing,  diminished  ; 
and  the  condition  of  the  people,  instead  of  ameliorating, 
became  daily  more  abject  and  wretched,  for  causes  derived 
from  the  nature  of  things. 

Because,  in  proportion  as  states  increased  in  extent,  their 
administration  becoming  more  difficult  and  complicated, 
greater  energies  of  power  were  necessary  to  move  such 
masses  ;  and  there  was  no  longer  any  proportion  between  the 
duties  of  sovereigns  and  their  ability  to  perform  their  duties : 

Because  despots,  feeling  their  weakness,  feared  whatever 
might  develop  the  strength  of  nations,  and  studied  only 
how  to  enfeeble  them  : 

Because  nations,  divided  by  the  prejudices  of  ignorance 
and  hatred,  seconded  the  wickedness  of  their  governments ; 
and  availing  themselves  reciprocally  of  subordinate  agents, 
aggravated  their  mutual  slavery  : 

Because,  the  balance  between  states  being  destroyed,  the 
strong  more  easily  oppressed  the  weak. 

Finally,  because  in  proportion  as  states  were  concentrated, 
the  people,  despoiled  of  their  laws,  of  their  usages,  and  of 
the  government  of  their  choice,  lost  that  spirit  of  personal 
identification  with  their  government,  which  had  caused  their 
energy. 

and  from  aristocracy  to  monarchy.  Does  it  not  hence  follow  that 
those  who  constitute  states  under  the  democratic  form,  destine  them 
to  undergo  all  the  intervening  troubles  between  that  and  monarchy  ; 
but  it  should  at  the  same  time  be  proved  that  social  experience  is 
already  exhausted  for  the  human  race,  and  that  this  spontaneous  move- 
ment is  not  solely  the  effect  of  ignorance. 


THE   RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  113 

And  despots,  considering  empires  as  their  private  domains, 
and  the  people  as  their  property,  gave  themselves  up  to 
depredations,  and  to  all  the  licentiousness  of  the  most  arbi- 
trary authority. 

And  all  the  strength  and  wealth  of  nations  were  diverted 
to  private  expense  and  personal  caprice  ;  and  kings,  fatigued 
with  gratification,  abandoned  themselves  to  all  the  extrava- 
gancies of  factitious  and  depraved  taste.*  They  must  have 
gardens  mounted  on  arcades,  rivers  raised  over  mountains, 
fertile  fields  converted  into  haunts  for  wild  beasts ;  lakes 
scooped  in  dry  lands,  rocks  erected  in  lakes,  palaces  built 
of  marble  and  porphyry,  furniture  of  gold  and  diamonds. 
Under  the  cloak  of  religion,  their  pride  founded  temples, 
endowed  indolent  priests,  built,  for  vain  skeletons,  extrava- 
gant tombs,  mausoleums,  and  pyramids;!  millions  of  hands 

*It  is  equally  worthy  of  remark,  that  the  conduct  and  manners  of 
princes  and  kings  of  every  country  and  every  age,  are  found  to  be 
precisely  the  same  at  similar  periods,  whether  of  the  formation  or  dis- 
solution of  empires.  History  every  where  presents  the  same  pictures 
of  luxury  and  folly ;  of  parks,  gardens,  lakes,  rocks,  palaces,  furniture, 
excess  of  the  table,  wine,  women,  concluding  with  brutality. 

The  absurd  rock  in  the  garden  of  Versailles  has  alone  cost  three 
millions.  I  have  sometimes  calculated  what  might  have  been  done 
with  the  expense  of  the  three  pyramids  of  Gizeh,  and  I  have  found 
that  it  would  easily  have  constructed,  from  the  Red  Sea  to  Alexandria, 
a  canal  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  wide  and  thirty  deep,  completely 
covered  in  with  cut  stones  and  a  parapet,  together  with  a  fortified 
and  commercial  town,  consisting  of  four  hundred  houses,  furnished 
with  cisterns.  What  a  difference  in  point  of  utility  between  such  a 
canal  and  these  pyramids ! 

f  The  learned  Dupuis  could  not  be  persuaded  that  the  pyramids  were 
tombs ;  but  besides  the  positive  testimony  of  historians,  read  what 
Diodorus  says  of  the  religious  and  superstitious  importance  every 
Egyptian  attached  to  building  his  dwelling  eternal,  b.   1. 

During  twenty  years,  says  Herodotus,  a  hundred  thousand  men 
labored  every  day  to  build  the  pyramid  of  the  Egyptian  Cheops. 
Supposing  only  three  hundred  days  a  year,  on  account  of  the  Sabbath, 
there  will  be  30  millions  of  days'  work  in  a  year,  and  600  millions  in 
twenty  years  ;  at  15  sous  a  day,  this  makes  450  millions  of  francs  lost, 
without  any  further  benefit.  With  this  sum,  if  the  king  had  shut  the 
isthmus  of  Suez  by  a  strong  wall,  like  that  of  China,  the  destinies  of 
Egypt  might  have  been  entirely  changed.  Foreign  invasions  would 
have  been  prevented,  and  the  Arabs  of  the  desert  would  neither  have 
conquered  nor  harassed  that  country.  Sterile  labors  !  how  many  mil- 
8 


H4  VOLNEY 

were  employed  in  sterile  labors ;  and  the  luxury  of  princes, 
imitated  by  their  parasites,  and  transmitted  from  grade  to 
grade  to  the  lowest  ranks,  became  a  general  source  of  cor- 
ruption and  impoverishment. 

And  in  the  insatiable  thirst  of  enjoyment,  the  ordinary 
revenues  no  longer  sufficing,  they  were  augmented ;  the 
cultivator,  seeing  his  labors  increase  without  compensation, 
lost  all  courage  ;  the  merchant,  despoiled,  was  disgusted 
with  industry  ;  the  multitude,  condemned  to  perpetual  pov- 
erty, restrained  their  labor  to  simple  necessaries ;  and  all 
productive  industry  vanished. 

The  surcharge  of  taxes  rendering  lands  a  burdensome 
possession,  the  poor  proprietor  abandoned  his  field,  or  sold 
it  to  the  powerful  ;  and  fortune  became  concentrated  in  a 
few  hands.  All  the  laws  and  institutions  favoring  this  ac- 
cumulation, the  nation  became  divided  into  a  group  of 
wealthy  drones,  and  a  multitude  of  mercenary  poor ;  the 
people  were  degraded  with  indigence,  the  great  with  satiety, 
and  the  number  of  those  interested  in  the  preservation  of 
the  state  decreasing,  its  strength  and  existence  became  pro- 
portionally precarious. 

On  the  other  hand,  emulation  finding  no  object,  science 
no  encouragement,  the  mind  sunk  into  profound  ignorance. 

The  administration  being  secret  and  mysterious,  there  ex- 
isted no  means  of  reform  or  amelioration.  The  chiefs  gov- 
erning by  force  or  fraud,  the  people  viewed  them  as  a 
faction  of  public  enemies  ;  and  all  harmony  ceased  between 
the  governors  and  governed. 

And  these  vices  having  enervated  the  states  of  the 
wealthy  part  of  Asia,  the  vagrant  and  indigent  people  of 
the  adjacent  deserts  and  mountains  coveted  the  enjoyments 
of  the  fertile  plains ;  and,  urged  by  a  cupidity  common  to 
all,  attacked  the  polished  empires,  and  overturned  the 
thrones  of  their  despots.  These  revolutions  were  rapid  and 
easy  ;  because  the  policy  of  tyrants  had  enfeebled  the  sub- 
jects, razed  the  fortresses,  destroyed  the  warriors  ;    and    be- 

lions  lost  in  putting  one  stone  upon  another,  under  the  forms  of 
temples  and  churches  !  Alchymists  convert  stones  into  gold  ;  but 
architects  change  gold  into  stone.  Woe  to  the  kings  (as  well  as  sub- 
jects) who  trust  their  purse  to  these  two  classes  of  empirics  ! 


THE   RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  115 

cause  the  oppressed  subjects  remained  without  personal 
interest,  and  the  mercenary  soldiers  without  courage. 

And  hordes  of  barbarians  having  reduced  entire  nations 
to  slavery,  the  empires,  formed  of  conquerors  and  conquered, 
united  in  their  bosom  two  classes  essentially  opposite  and 
hostile.  All  the  principles  of  society  were  dissolved  :  there 
was  no  longer  any  common  interest,  no  longer  any  public 
spirit ;  and  there  arose  a  distinction  of  castes  and  races, 
which  reduced  to  a  regular  system  the  maintenance  of  dis- 
order ;  and  he  who  was  born  of  this  or  that  blood,  was 
born  a  slave  or  a  tyrant — property  or  proprietor. 

The  oppressors  being  less  numerous  than  the  oppressed, 
it  was  necessary  to  perfect  the  science  of  oppression,  in 
order  to  support  this  false  equilibrium.  The  art  of  govern- 
ing became  the  art  of  subjecting  the  many  to  the  few.  To 
enforce  an  obedience  so  contrary  to  instinct,  the  severest 
punishments  were  established,  and  the  cruelty  of  the  laws 
rendered  manners  atrocious.  The  distinction  of  persons  es- 
tablishing in  the  state  two  codes,  two  orders  of  criminal 
justice,  two  sets  of  laws,  the  people,  placed  between  the 
propensities  of  the  heart  and  the  oath  uttered  from  the 
mouth,  had  two  consciences  in  contradiction  with  each 
other  ;  and  the  ideas  of  justice  and  injustice  had  no  longer 
any  foundation  in  the  understanding. 

Under  such  a  system,  the  people  fell  into  dejection  and 
despair ;  and  the  accidents  of  nature  were  added  to  the 
other  evils  which  assailed  them.  Prostrated  by  so  many 
calamities,  they  attributed  their  causes  to  superior  and  hid- 
den powers  ;  and,  because  they  had  tyrants  on  earth,  they 
fancied  others  in  heaven  ;  and  superstition  aggravated  the 
misfortunes  of  nations. 

Fatal  doctrines  and  gloomy  and  misanthropic  systems  of 
religion  arose,  which  painted  their  gods,  like  their  despots, 
wicked  and  envious.  To  appease  them,  man  offered  up  the 
sacrifice  of  all  his  enjoyments.  He  environed  himself  in 
privations,  and  reversed  the  order  of  nature.  Conceiving 
his  pleasures  to  be  crimes,  his  sufferings  expiations,  he  en- 
deavored to  love  pain,  and  to  adjure  the  love  of  self.  He 
persecuted  his  senses,  hated  his  life  ;  and  a  self-denying  and 
anti-social  morality  plunged  nations  into  the  apathy  of  death. 


n6  VOLNEY 

But  provident  nature  having  endowed  the  heart  of  man 
with  hope  inexhaustible,  when  his  desires  of  happiness 
were  baffled  on  this  earth,  he  pursued  it  into  another  world. 
By  a  sweet  illusion  he  created  for  himself  another  country 
—  an  asylum  where,  far  from  tyrants,  he  should  recover  the 
rights  of  nature,  and  thence  resulted  new  disorders.  Smit- 
ten with  an  imaginary  world,  man  despised  that  of  nature. 
For  chimerical  hopes,  he  neglected  realities.  His  life  be- 
gan to  appear  a  troublesome  journey — a  painful  dream; 
his  body  a  prison,  the  obstacle  to  his  felicity;  and  the 
earth,  a  place  of  exile  and  of  pilgrimage,  not  worthy  of 
culture.  Then  a  holy  indolence  spread  over  the  political 
world ;  the  fields  were  deserted,  empires  depopulated,  monu- 
ments neglected,  and  deserts  multiplied  ;  ignorance,  supersti- 
tion, and  fanaticism,  combining  their  operations,  overwhelmed 
the  earth  with  devastation  and  ruin. 

Thus  agitated  by  their  own  passions,  men,  whether  col- 
lectively or  individually  taken,  always  greedy  and  improvi- 
dent, passing  from  slavery  to  tyranny,  from  pride  to 
baseness,  from  presumption  to  desporfdency,  have  made 
themselves  the  perpetual  instruments  of  their  own  misfor- 
tunes. 

These,  then,  are  the  principles,  simple  and  natural,  which 
regulated  the  destiny  of  ancient  states.  By  this  regular 
and  connected  series  of  causes  and  effects,  they  rose  or  fell, 
in  proportion  as  the  physical  laws  of  the  human  heart 
were  respected  or  violated  ;  and  in  the  course  of  their  suc- 
cessive changes,  a  hundred  different  nations,  a  hundred  dif- 
ferent empires,  by  turns  humbled,  elevated,  conquered, 
overthrown,  have  repeated  for  the  earth  their  instructive 
lessons.  Yet  these  lessons  were  lost  for  the  generations 
which  have  followed  !  The  disorders  in  times  past  have 
reappeared  in  the  present  age  !  The  chief  of  the  nations 
have  continued  to  walk  in  the  paths  of  falsehood  and 
tyranny  —  the  people  to  wander  in  the  darkness  of  super- 
stition and  ignorance  ! 

Since  then,  continued  the  Genius,  with  renewed  energy, 
since  the  experience  of  past  ages  is  lost  for  the  living  — 
since  the  errors  of  progenitors  have  not  instructed  their 
descendants,  the  ancient    examples  are   about    to   reappear; 


THE    RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  117 

the  earth  will  see  renewed  the  tremendous  scenes  it  has 
forgotten.  New  revolutions  will  agitate  nations  and  em- 
pires; powerful  thrones  will  again  be  overturned,  and 
terrible  catastrophes  will  again  teach  mankind  that  the 
laws  of  nature  and  the  precepts  of  wisdom  and  truth  can- 
not be  infringed  with  impunity. 


WILL  THE  HUMAN  RACE  IMPROVE? 

AT  these  words,  oppressed  with  the  painful  sentiment 
with  which  their  severity  overwhelmed  me  :  Woe  to 
the  nations !  cried  I,  melting  in  tears ;  woe  to  my- 
self !  Ah !  now  it  is  that  I  despair  of  the  happiness  of 
man  !  Since  his  miseries  proceed  from  his  heart ;  since  the 
remedy  is  in  his  own  power,  woe  forever  to  his  exist- 
ence !  Who,  indeed,  will  ever  be  able  to  restrain  the  lust 
of  wealth  in  the  strong  and  powerful?  Who  can  enlighten 
the  ignorance  of  the  weak?  Who  can  teach  the  multitude 
to  know  their  rights,  and  force  their  chiefs  to  perform 
their  duties?  Thus  the  race  of  man  is  always  doomed  to 
suffer  !  Thus  the  individual  will  not  cease  to  oppress  the 
individual,  a  nation  to  attack  a  nation  ;  and  days  of  pros- 
perity, of  glor}r,  for  these  regions,  shall  never  return. 
Alas !  conquerors  will  come ;  they  will  drive  out  the  op- 
pressors, and  fix  themselves  in  their  place;  but,  inheriting 
their  power,  they  will  inherit  their  rapacity;  and  the  earth 
will  have  changed  tyrants,  without  changing  the  tyranny. 
Then,  turning  to  the  Genius,  I  exclaimed  :  — 
O  Genius,  despair  hath  settled  on  my  soul.  Knowing 
the  nature  of  man,  the  perversity  of  those  who  govern, 
and  the  debasement  of  the  governed  —  this  knowledge  hath 
disgusted  me  with  life ;  and  since  there  is  no  choice  but  to 
be  the  accomplice  or  the  victim  of  oppression,  what  remains 
to  the  man  of  virtue  but  to  mingle  his  ashes  with  those 
of  the  tomb? 

The  Genius  then  gave  me  a  look  of  severity,  mingled 
with  compassion  ;  and  after  a  few  moments  of  silence,  he 
replied  :  — 


:i8  VOLNEY 

Virtue,  then,  consists  in  dying  !  The  wicked  man  is  in- 
defatigable in  consummating  his  crime,  and  the  just  is 
discouraged  from  doing  good  at  the  first  obstacle  he  en- 
counters !  But  such  is  the  human  heart.  A  little  success 
intoxicates  man  with  confidence  ;  a  reverse  overturns  and 
confounds  him.  Always  given  up  to  the  sensation  of  the 
moment,  he  seldom  judges  things  from  their  nature,  but 
from  the  impulse  of  his  passion. 

Mortal,  who  despairest  of  the  human  race,  on  what  pro- 
found combination  of  facts  hast  thou  established  thy  con- 
clusion? Hast  thou  scrutinized  the  organization  of  sentient 
beings,  to  determine  with  precision  whether  the  instinctive 
force  which  moves  them  on  to  happiness  is  essentially 
weaker  than  that  which  repels  them  from  it?  or,  embrac- 
ing in  one  glance  the  history  of  the  species,  and  judging 
the  future  by  the  past,  hast  thou  shown  that  all  improve- 
ment is  impossible?  Say !  hath  human  society,  since  its 
origin,  made  no  progress  toward  knowledge  and  a  better 
state?  Are  men  still  in  their  forests,  destitute  of  every- 
thing, ignorant,  stupid,  and  ferocious?  Are  all  the  nations 
still  in  that  age  when  nothing  was  seen  upon  the  globe 
but  brutal  robbers  and  brutal  slaves?  If  at  any  time,  in 
any  place,  individuals  have  ameliorated,  why  shall  not  the 
whole  mass  ameliorate?  If  partial  societies  have  made  im- 
provements, what  shall  hinder  the  improvement  of  society 
in  general?  And  if  the  first  obstacles  are  overcome,  why 
should  the  others  be  insurmountable? 

Art  thou  disposed  to  think  that  the  human  race  degen- 
erates? Guard  against  the  illusion  and  paradoxes  of  the 
misanthrope.  Man,  discontented  with  the  present,  imagines 
for  the  past  a  perfection  which  never  existed,  and  which 
only  serves  to  cover  his  chagrin.  He  praises  the  dead  out 
of  hatred  to  the  living,  and  beats  the  children  with  the 
bones  of  their  ancestors. 

To  prove  this  pretended  retrograde  progress  from  per- 
fection we  must  contradict  the  testimony  of  reason  and  of 
fact ;  and  if  the  facts  of  history  are  in  any  measure  un- 
certain, we  must  contradict  the  living  fact  of  the  organiza- 
tion of  man ;  we  must  prove  that  he  is  born  with  the 
enlightened  use  of  his  senses  ;    that,  without  experience,  he 


THE   RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  119 

can  distinguish  aliment  from  poison ;  that  the  child  is  wiser 
than  the  old  man  ;  that  the  blind  walks  with  more  safety 
than  the  clear-sighted ;  that  the  civilized  man  is  more 
miserable  than  the  savage ;  and,  indeed,  that  there  is  no 
ascending  scale  in  experience  and  instruction. 

Believe,  young  man,  the  testimony  of  monuments,  and 
the  voice  of  the  tombs.  Some  countries  have  doubtless 
fallen  from  what  they  were  at  certain  epochs ;  but  if  we 
weigh  the  wisdom  and  happiness  of  their  inhabitants,  even 
in  those  times,  we  shall  find  more  of  splendor  than  of 
reality  in  their  glory  ;  we  shall  find,  in  the  most  celebrated 
of  ancient  states,  enormous  vices  and  cruel  abuses,  the  true 
causes  of  their  decay  ;  we  shall  find  in  general  that  the  prin- 
ciples of  government  were  atrocious ;  that  insolent  robberies, 
barbarous  wars,  and  implacable  hatreds  were  raging  from 
nation  to  nation ;  that  natural  right  was  unknown ;  that 
morality  was  perverted  by  senseless  fanaticism  and  deplorable 
superstition  ;  that  a  dream,  a  vision,  an  oracle,  were  con- 
stantly the  causes  of  vast  commotions.  Perhaps  the  nations 
are  not  yet  entirely  cured  of  all  these  evils  ;  but  their  in- 
tensity at  least  is  diminished,  and  the  experience  of  the  past 
has  not  been  wholly  lost.  For  the  last  three  centuries,  es- 
pecially, knowledge  has  increased  and  been  extended  ;  civili- 
zation, favored  by  happy  circumstances,  has  made  a  sensible 
progress ;  inconveniences  and  abuses  have  even  turned  to  its 
advantage ;  for  if  states  have  been  too  much  extended  by 
conquest,  the  people,  by  uniting  under  the  same  yoke,  have 
lost  the  spirit  of  estrangement  and  division  which  made 
them  all  enemies  one  to  the  other.  If  the  powers  of  gov- 
ernment have  been  more  concentrated,  there  has  been  more 
system  and  harmony  in  their  exercise.  If  wars  have  become 
more  extensive  in  the  mass,  they  are  less  bloody  in  detail. 
If  men  have  gone  to  battle  with  less  personality,  less  en- 
ergy, their  struggles  have  been  less  sanguinary  and  less 
ferocious  ;  they  have  been  less  free,  but  less  turbulent ; 
more  effeminate,  but  more  pacific.  Despotism  itself  has  ren- 
dered them  some  service ;  for  if  governments  have  been 
more  absolute,  they  have  been  more  quiet  and  less  tempes- 
tuous. If  thrones  have  become  a  property  and  hereditary, 
they    have    excited    less    dissensions,   and    the    people    have 


120  VOLNEY 

suffered  fewer  convulsions ;  finally,  if  the  despots,  jealous  and 
mysterious,  have  interdicted  all  knowledge  of  their  admin- 
istration, all  concurrences  in  the  management  of  public  af- 
fairs, the  passions  of  men,  drawn  aside  from  politics,  have 
fixed  upon  the  arts,  and  the  sciences  of  nature ;  and  the 
sphere  of  ideas  in  every  direction  has  been  enlarged  ;  man, 
devoted  to  abstract  studies,  has  better  understood  his  place  in 
the  system  of  nature,  and  his  relations  in  society ;  principles 
have  been  better  discussed,  final  causes  better  explained, 
knowledge  more  extended,  individuals  better  instructed, 
manners  more  social,  and  life  more  happy.  The  species  at 
large,  especially  in  certain  countries,  has  gained  consider- 
ably ;  and  this  amelioration  cannot  but  increase  in  future, 
because  its  two  principal  obstacles,  those  even  which,  till 
then,  had  rendered  it  slow  and  sometimes  retrograde, —  the 
difficulty  of  transmitting  ideas  and  of  communicating  them 
rapidly, —  have  been  at  last  removed. 

Indeed,  among  the  ancients,  each  canton,  each  city,  being 
isolated  from  all  others  by  the  difference  of  its  language, 
the  consequence  was  favorable  to  ignorance  and  anarchy. 
There  was  no  communication  of  ideas,  no  participation  of 
discoveries,  no  harmony  of  interests  or  of  wills,  no  unity  of 
action  or  design  ;  besides,  the  only  means  of  transmitting 
and  of  propagating  ideas  being  that  of  speech,  fugitive  and 
limited,  and  that  of  writing,  tedious  of  execution,  expensive, 
and  scarce,  the  consequence  was  a  hindrance  of  present 
instruction,  loss  of  experience  from  one  generation  to  an- 
other, instability,  retrogression  of  knowledge,  and  a  per- 
petuity of  confusion  and  childhood. 

But  in  the  modern  world,  especially  in  Europe,  great  na- 
tions having  allied  themselves  in  language,  and  established 
vast  communities  of  opinions,  the  minds  of  men  are  as- 
similated, and  their  affections  extended  ;  there  is  a  sympa- 
thy of  opinion  and  a  unity  of  action ;  then  that  gift  of 
heavenly  Genius,  the  holy  art  of  printing,  having  furnished 
the  means  of  communicating  in  an  instant  the  same  idea  to 
millions  of  men,  and  of  fixing  it  in  a  durable  manner,  be- 
yond the  power  of  tyrants  to  arrest  or  annihilate,  there 
arose  a  mass  of  progressive  instruction,  an  expanding  at- 
mosphere  of  science,  which   assures    to  future   ages  a  solid 


THE   RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  121 

amelioration.  This  amelioration  is  a  necessary  effect  of  the 
laws  of  nature ;  for,  by  the  law  of  sensibilit}',  man  as  in- 
vincibly tends  to  render  himself  happy  as  the  flame  to 
mount,  the  stone  to  descend,  or  the  water  to  find  its  level. 
His  obstacle  is  his  ignorance,  which  misleads  him  in  the 
means,  and  deceives  him  in  causes  and  effects.  He  will 
enlighten  himself  by  experience ;  he  will  become  right  by 
dint  of  errors ;  he  will  grow  wise  and  good  because  it  is 
his  interest  so  to  be.  Ideas  being  communicated  through 
the  nation,  whole  classes  will  gain  instruction  ;  science  will 
become  a  common  possession,  and  all  men  will  know  what 
are  the  principles  of  individual  happiness  and  of  public 
prosperity.  They  will  know  the  relations  they  bear  to  so- 
ciety, their  duties  and  their  rights ;  they  will  learn  to 
guard  against  the  illusions  of  the  lust  of  gain  ;  they  will 
perceive  that  the  science  of  morals  is  a  physical  science, 
composed,  indeed,  of  elements  complicated  in  their  opera- 
tion, but  simple  and  invariable  in  their  nature,  since  they 
are  only  the  elements  of  the  organization  of  man.  They 
will  see  the  propriety  of  being  moderate  and  just,  because 
in  that  is  found  the  advantage  and  security  of  each  ;  they 
will  perceive  that  the  wish  to  enjoy  at  the  expense  of  an- 
other is  a  false  calculation  of  ignorance,  because  it  gives 
rise  to  reprisal,  hatred,  and  vengeance,  and  that  dishonesty 
is  the  never-failing  offspring  of  folly. 

Individuals  will  feel  that  private  happiness  is  allied  to 
public  good  : 

The  weak,  that  instead  of  dividing  their  interests,  they 
ought  to  unite  them,  because  equality  constitutes  their 
force  : 

The  rich,  that  the  measure  of  enjoyment  is  bounded  by 
the  constitution  of  the  organs,  aud  that  lassitude  follows 
satiety  : 

The  poor,  that  the  employment  of  time,  and  the  peace 
of  the  heart,  compose  the  highest  happiness  of  man.  And 
public  opinion,  reaching  kings  on  their  thrones,  will  force 
them  to  confine  themselves  to  the  limits  of  regular  author- 
ity. 

Even  chance  itself,  serving  the  cause  of  nations,  will 
sometimes  give  them  feeble  chiefs,  who,   through  weakness, 


122  VOLNEY 

will  suffer  them  to  become  free  ;  and  sometimes  enlightened 
chiefs,  who,  from  a  principle  of  virtue,  will  free  them. 

And  when  nations,  free  and  enlightened,  shall  become 
like  great  individuals,  the  whole  species  will  have  the  same 
facilities  as  particular  portions  now  have ;  the  communica- 
tion of  knowledge  will  extend  from  one  to  another,  and 
thus  reach  the  whole.  By  the  law  of  imitation,  the  exam- 
ple of  one  people  will  be  followed  by  others,  who  will 
adopt  its  spirit  and  its  laws.  Kven  despots,  perceiving  that 
they  can  no  longer  maintain  their  authority  without  justice 
and  beneficence,  will  soften  their  sway  from  necessity 
from  rivalship ;   and  civilization  will  become  universal. 

There  will  be  established  among  the  several  nations  an 
equilibrium  of  force,  which,  restraining  them  all  within  the 
bounds  of  the  respect  due  to  their  reciprocal  rights,  shall 
put  an  end  to  the  barbarous  practice  of  war,  and  submit 
their  disputes  to  civil  arbitration.*  The  human  race  will 
become  one  great  society,  one  individual  family,  governed 
by  the  same  spirit,  by  common  laws,  and  enjoying  all  the 
happiness  of  which  their  nature  is  susceptible. 

Doubtless  this  great  work  will  be  long  accomplishing  ; 
because  the  same  movement  must  be  given  to  an  immense 
body ;  the  same  leaven  must  assimilate  an  enormous  mass 
of  heterogeneous  parts.  But  this  movement  shall  be 
effected ;  its  presages  are  already  to  be  seen.  Already  the 
great  society,  assuming  in  its  course  the  same  characters  as 
partial  societies  have  done,  is  evidently  tending  to  a  like 
result.  At  first  disconnected  in  all  its  parts,  it  saw  its 
members  for  a  long  time  without  cohesion  ;  and  this  gen- 
eral solitude  of  nations  formed  its  first  age  of  anarchy  and 
childhood  ;  divided  afterward  by  chance  into  irregular  sec- 
tions, called  states  and  kingdoms,  it  has  experienced  the 
fatal  effects  of  an  extreme  inequality  of  wealth  and  rank  ; 
and  the  aristocracy  of  great  empires    has  formed  its  second 

*What  is  a  people?  An  individual  of  the  society  at  large.  What 
a  war?  A  duel  between  two  individual  people.  In  what  manner 
ought  a  society  to  act  when  two  of  its  members  fight?  Interfere  and 
reconcile,  or  repress  them.  In  the  days  of  the  Abbe'  de  Saint  Pierre 
this  was  treated  as  a  dream,  but  happily  for  the  human  race  it  be- 
gins to  be  realized. 


THE   RUINS  OF   EMPIRES  123 

age ;  then,  these  lordly  states  disputing  for  preeminence, 
have   exhibited    the   period    of    the    shock    of    factions. 

At  present  the  contending  parties,  wearied  with  discord, 
feel  the  want  of  laws,  and  sigh  for  the  age  of  order  and  of 
peace.  Let  but  a  virtuous  chief  arise  !  a  just,  a  powerful 
people  appear  !  and  the  earth  will  raise  them  to  supreme 
power.  The  world  is  waiting  for  a  legislative  people ;  it 
wishes  and  demands  it ;  and  my  heart  attends  the  cry. 

Then  turning  toward  the  west :  Yes,  continued  he,  a 
hollow  sound  already  strikes  my  ear  ;  a  cry  of  liberty,  pro- 
ceeding from  far  distant  shores,  resounds  on  the  ancient 
continent.  At  this  cry,  a  secret  murmur  against  oppression 
is  raised  in  a  powerful  nation  ;  a  salutary  inquietude  alarms 
her  respecting  her  situation  ;  she  inquires  what  she  is,  and 
what  she  ought  to  be ;  while,  surprised  at  her  own  weak- 
ness, she  interrogates  her  rights,  her  resources,  and  what 
has  been  the  conduct  of  her  chiefs. 

Yet  another  day  —  a  little  more  reflection  —  and  an  im- 
mense agitation  will  begin ;  a  new-born  age  will  open  !  an 
age  of  astonishment  to  vulgar  minds,  of  terror  to  tyrants, 
of  freedom  to  a  great  nation,  and  of  hope  to  the  human 
race ! 


THE  GREAT  OBSTACLE  TO  IMPROVEMENT 

The  Genius   ceased.      But   preoccupied   with   melancholy 
thoughts,  my  mind  resisted  persuasion  ;  fearing,  how- 
ever, to  shock  him  by  my  resistance,  I  remained  silent. 
After  a  while,  turning  to  me  with  a  look  which  pierced  my 
soul,  he  said  :  — 

Thou  art  silent,  and  thy  heart  is  agitated   with  thoughts 
which  it  dares  not  utter. 

At  last,  troubled  and  terrified,  I  replied  :  — 
O  Genius,  pardon  my  weakness.  Doubtless  thy  mouth 
can  utter  nothing  but  truth  ;  but  thy  celestial  intelligence 
can  seize  its  rays,  where  my  gross  faculties  can  discern 
nothing  but  clouds.  I  confess  it ;  conviction  has  not  pen- 
etrated my  soul,  and  I  feared  that  my  doubts  might  offend 
thee. 


124  VOLNEY 

And  what  is  doubt,  replied  he,  that  it  should  be  a  crime  ? 
Can  man  feel  otherwise  than  as  he  is  affected  ?  If  a  truth 
be  palpable,  and  of  importance  in  practice,  let  us  pity  him 
that  misconceives  it.  His  punishment  will  arise  from  his 
blindness.  If  it  be  uncertain  or  equivocal,  how  is  he  to 
find  in  it  what  it  has  not  ?  To  believe  without  evidence  or 
proof,  is  an  act  of  ignorance  and  folly.  The  credulous 
man  loses  himself  in  a  labyrinth  of  contradictions ;  the  man 
of  sense  examines  and  discusses,  that  he  may  be  consistent 
in  his  opinions.  The  honest  man  will  bear  contradiction ; 
because  it  gives  rise  to  evidence.  Violence  is  the  argument 
of  falsehood ;  and  to  impose  a  creed  by  authority  is  the  act 
and  indication  of  a  tyrant. 

O  Genius,  said  I,  encouraged  by  these  words,  since  nry 
reason  is  free,  I  strive  in  vain  to  entertain  the  flattering 
hope  with  which  you  endeavor  to  console  me.  The  sensi- 
ble and  virtuous  soul  is  easily  caught  with  dreams  of 
happiness ;  but  a  cruel  reality  constantly  awakens  it  to 
suffering  and  wretchedness.  The  more  I  meditate  on  the 
nature  of  man,  the  more  I  examine  the  present  state  of 
societies,  the  less  possible  it  appears  to  realize  a  world  of 
wisdom  and  felicity.  I  cast  my  eye  over  the  whole  of  our 
hemisphere ;  I  perceive  in  no  place  the  germ,  nor  do  I 
foresee  the  instinctive  energy  of  a  happy  revolution.  All 
Asia  lies  buried  in  profound  darkness.  The  Chinese,  gov- 
erned by  an  insolent  despotism,*  by  strokes  of  the  bamboo 
and  the  cast  of  lots,  restrained  by  an  immutable  code  of 
gestures,  and  by  the  radical  vices  of  an  ill-constructed 
language,!  appear  to  be  in  their  abortive  civilization  noth- 
ing  but   a   race  of   automatons.      The   Indian,  borne  down 

*The  emperor  of  China  calls  himself  the  son  of  heaven  ;  that  is, 
of  God  :  for  in  the  opinion  of  the  Chinese,  the  material  of  heaven, 
the  arbiter  of  fatality,  is  the  Deity  himself.  (<The  emperor  only 
shows  himself  once  in  ten  months,  lest  the  people,  accustomed  to  see 
him,  might  lose  their  respect ;  for  he  holds  it  as  a  maxim  that  power 
can  only  be  supported  by  force,  that  the  people  have  no  idea  of  jus- 
tice, and  are  not  to  be  governed  but  by  coercion. *  Narrath>e  of 
tzvo  Mahometan  travelers  in  851  and  877,  translated  by  the  Abbe" 
Renaudot  in   1718. 

Notwithstanding  what  is  asserted  by  the  missionaries,  this  situa- 
tion has  undergone  no  change.     The  bambco  still  reigns  in  China,  and 


THE   RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  125 

by  prejudices,  and  enchained  in  the  sacred  fetters  of  his 
castes,  vegetates  in  an  incurable  apathy.  The  Tartar, 
wandering  or  fixed,  always  ignorant  and  ferocious,  lives  in 
the  savageness  of  his  ancestors.  The  Arab,  endowed  with 
a  happy  genius,  looses  its  force  and  the  fruits  of  his  virtue 
in  the  anarchy  of  his  tribes  and  the  jealousy  of  his  fam- 
ilies. The  African,  degraded  from  the  rank  of  man,  seems 
irrevocably  doomed  to  servitude.  In  the  North  I  see  noth- 
ing but  vilified  serfs,  herds  of  men  with  which  landlords 
stock  their  estates.  Ignorance,  tyranny,  and  wretchedness 
have  everywhere  stupified  the  nations ;  and  vicious  habits, 
depraving  the  natural  scenes,  have  destroyed  the  very  in- 
stinct of  happiness  and  of  truth. 

In  some  parts  of  Europe,  indeed,  reason  has  begun  to 
dawn,  but  even  there,  do  nations  partake  of  the  knowledge 
of  individuals?  Are  the  .talents  and  genius  of  governors 
turned  to  the  benefit  of  the  people?  And  those  nations 
which  call  themselves  polished,  are  they  not  the  same  that 
for  the  last  three  centuries  have  filled  the  earth  with  their 
injustice?  Are  they  not  those  who,  under  the  pretext  of 
commerce,  have  desolated  India,  depopulated  a  new  conti- 
nent, and,  at  present,  subject  Africa  to  the  most  barbarous 
slavery  ?  Can  liberty  be  born  from  the  bosom  of  despots  ? 
and  shall  justice  be  rendered  by  the  hands  of  piracy  and 
and  avarice  ?  O  Genius,  I  have  seen  the  civilized  countries  ; 
and  the  mockery  of  their  wisdom  has  vanished  before  my 
sight.  I  saw  wealth  accumulated  in  the  hands  of  a  few, 
and    the    multitude   poor   and    destitute.     I    have   seen    all 

the  son  of  heaven  bastinades,  for  the  most  trivial  fault,  the  Mandarin, 
who  in  his  turn  bastinades  the  people.  The  Jesuits  may  tell  us  that 
this  is  the  best  governed  country  in  the  world,  and  its  inhabitants 
the  happiest  of  men  :  but  a  single  letter  from  Amyot  has  convinced 
me  that  China  is  a  truly  Turkish  government,  and  the  account  of 
Sonnerat  confirms  it.     See  Vol.  II.  of   Voyage  aux  Indcs,  in  4to. 

t  As  long  as  the  Chinese  shall  in  writing  make  use  of  their  present 
characters,  they  can  be  expected  to  make  no  progress  in  civilization. 
The  necessary  introductory  step  must  be  the  giving  them  an  alphabet 
like  our  own,  or  of  substituting  in  the  room  of  their  language  that  of 
the  Tartars.  The  improvement  made  in  the  latter  by  M.  de  Lengles, 
is  calculated  to  introduce  tbis  change.  See  the  Mantchou  alphabet, 
the  production  of  a  mind  truly  learned  in  the  formation  of  language. 


126  VOLNEY 

rights,  all  powers  concentred  in  certain  classes,  and  the 
mass  of  the  people  passive  and  dependent.  I  have  seen 
families  of  princes,  but  no  families  of  the  nation.  I  have 
seen  government  interests,  but  no  public  interests  or  spirit. 
I  have  seen  that  all  the  science  of  government  was  to  op- 
press prudently ;  and  the  refined  servitude  of  polished  na- 
tions appeared  to  me  only  the  more  irremediable. 

One  obstacle  above  all  has  profoundly  struck  my  mind. 
On  looking  over  the  world,  I  have  seen  it  divided  into 
twenty  different  systems  of  religion.  Every  nation  has  re- 
ceived, or  formed,  opposite  opinions ;  and  every  one  ascrib- 
ing to  itself  the  exclusive  possession  of  the  truth,  must 
believe  the  other  to  be  wrong.  Now  if,  as  must  be  the 
fact  in  this  discordance  of  opinion,  the  greater  part  are  in 
error,  and  are  honest  in  it,  then  it  follows  that  our  mind 
embraces  falsehood  as  it  does  truth ;  and  if  so,  how  is 
it  to  be  enlightened  ?  When  prejudice  has  once  seized  the 
mind,  how  is  it  to  be  dissipated?  How  shall  we  re- 
move the  bandage  from  our  eyes,  when  the  first  article 
in  every  creed,  the  first  dogma  in  all  religion,  is  the  ab- 
solute proscription  of  doubt,  the  interdiction  of  examina- 
tion, and  the  rejection  of  our  own  judgment?  How  is 
truth  to  make  herself  known  ?  —  If  she  resorts  to  arguments 
and  proofs,  the  timid  man  stifles  the  voice  of  his  own  con- 
science ;  if  she  invokes  the  authority  of  celestial  powers,  he 
opposes  it  with  another  authority  of  the  same  origin,  with 
which  he  is  preoccupied  ;  and  he  treats  all  innovation  as 
blasphemy.  Thus  man  in  his  blindness,  has  riveted  his  own 
chains,  and  surrendered  himself  forever,  without  defense,  to 
the  sport  of  his  ignorance  and  his  passions. 

To  dissolve  such  fatal  chains,  a  miraculous  concurrence  of 
happy  events  would  be  necessary.  A  whole  nation,  cured 
of  the  delirium  of  superstition,  must  be  inaccessible  to  the 
impulse  of  fanatacism.  Freed  from  the  yoke  of  false  doc- 
trine, a  whole  people  must  impose  upon  itself  that  of  true 
morality  and  reason.  This  people  should  be  courageous 
and  prudent,  wise  and  docile.  Each  individual,  knowing 
his  rights,  should  not  trangress  them.  The  poor  should 
know  how  to  resist  seduction,  and  the  rich  the  allure- 
ments   of  avarice.     There   should  be  found   leaders  disinter- 


THE   RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  127 

ested  and  just,  and  their  tyrants  should  be  seized  with  a 
spirit  of  madness  and  folly.  This  people,  recovering  its 
rights,  should  feel  its  inability  to  exercise  them  in  person, 
and  should  name  its  representatives.  Creator  of  its  magis- 
trates, it  should  know  at  once  to  respect  them  and  to  judge 
them.  In  the  sudden  reform  of  a  whole  nation,  accus- 
tomed to  live  by  abuses,  each  individual  displaced  should 
bear  with  patience  his  privations,  and  submit  to  a  change 
of  habits.  This  nation  should  have  the  courage  to  conquer 
its  liberty,  the  power  to  defend  it,  the  wisdom  to  establish 
it,  and  the  generosity  to  extend  it  to  others.  And  can  we 
ever  expect  the  union  of  so  many  circumstances  ?  But  sup- 
pose that  chance  in  its  infinite  combinations  should  produce 
them,  shall  I  see  those  fortunate  days?  Will  not  my  ashes 
long  ere  then  be  moldering  in  the  tomb? 

Here,  sunk  in  sorrow,  my  oppressed  heart  no  longer 
found  utterance.  The  Genius  answered  not,  but  I  heard 
him  whisper  to  himself  :  — 

L,et  us  revive  the  hope  of  this  man  ;  for  if  he  who  loves 
his  fellow  creatures  be  suffered  to  despair,  what  will  be- 
come of  nations  ?  The  past  is  perhaps  too  discouraging  ;  I 
must  anticipate  futurity,  and  disclose  to  the  eye  of  virtue 
the  astonishing  age  that  is  ready  to  begin  ;  that,  on  view- 
ing the  object  she  desires,  she  may  be  animated  with  new 
ardor,  and  redouble  her  efforts  to  attain  it. 


THE  NEW  AGE 

Scarcely  had  he  finished  these  words,  when  a  great 
tumult  arose  in  the  west  ;  and  turning  to  that  quar- 
ter, I  perceived,  at  the  extremity  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean, in  one  of  the  nations  of  Europe,  a  prodigious 
movement  —  such  as  when  a  violent  sedition  arises  in  a 
vast  city — a  numberless  people,  rushing  in  all  directions, 
pour  through  the  streets  and  fluctuate  like  waves  in  the 
public  places.  My  ear,  struck  with  the  cries  which  re- 
sounded to  the  heavens,  distinguished  these  words  :  — 


128  VOLNEY 

What  is  this  new  prodigy?  What  cruel  and  mysterious 
scourge  is  this?  We  are  a  numerous  people  and  we  want 
hands  !  We  have  an  excellent  soil,  and  we  are  in  want  of 
subsistence !  We  are  active  and  laborious,  and  we  live  in 
indigence !  We  pay  enormous  tributes,  and  we  are  told 
they  are  not  sufficient  !  We  are  at  peace  without,  and  our 
persons  and  property  are  not  safe  within.  Who,  then,  is 
the  secret  enemy  that  devours  us? 

Some  voices  from   the  midst  of   the  multitude  replied  :  — 

Raise  a  discriminating  standard ;  and  let  all  those  who 
maintain  and  nourish  mankind  by  useful  labors  gather 
round  it ;  and  you  will  discover  the  enemy  that  preys 
upon  you. 

The  standard  being  raised,  this  nation  divided  itself  at 
once  into  two  bodies  of  unequal  magnitude  and  contrasted 
appearance.  The  one,  innumerable,  and  almost  total,  ex- 
hibited in  the  poverty  of  its  clothing,  in  its  emaciated 
appearance,  and  sun-burnt  faces,  the  marks  of  misery  and 
labor  ;  the  other,  a  little  group,  an  insignificant  faction, 
presented  in  its  rich  attire  embroidered  with  gold  and  sil- 
ver, and  in  its  sleek  and  ruddy  faces,  the  signs  of  leisure 
and  abundance. 

Considering  these  men  more  attentively,  I  found  that  the 
great  body  was  composed  of  farmers,  artificers,  merchants, 
all  professions  useful  to  society  ;  and  that  the  little  group 
was  made  up  of  priests  of  every  order,  of  financiers,  of 
nobles,  of  men  in  livery,  of  commanders  of  armies  ;  in  a 
word,  of  the  civil,  military,  and  religious  agents  of  gov- 
ernment. 

These  two  bodies  being  assembled  face  to  face,  and 
regarding  each  other  with  astonishment,  I  saw  indignation 
and  rage  arising  in  one  side,  and  a  sort  of  panic  in  the 
other.  And  the  large  body  said  to  the  little  one  :  Why  are 
you   separated    from    us?     Are    you    not    of    our   number? 

No,  replied  the  group  ;  you  are  the  people  ;  we  are  a 
privileged  class,  who  have  our  laws,  customs,  and  rights, 
peculiar  to  ourselves. 

People. — And  what  labor  do  you  perform  in  our  society? 

Privileged  Class. —  None;  we  are  not  made  to  work. 

People. —  How,  then,  have  you  acquired  these  riches? 


THE    RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  129 

Privileged  Class. —  By  taking  the  pains  to  govern  you. 

People. —  What!  is  this  what  you  call  governing?  We 
toil  and  you  enjoy  !  we  produce  and  you  dissipate  !  Wealth 
proceeds  from  us,  and  you  absorb  it !  Privileged  men  ! 
class  who  are  not  the  people ;  form  a  nation  apart,  and 
govern  yourselves.* 

Then  the  little  group,  deliberating  on  this  new  state  of 
things,  some  of  the  most  honorable  among  them  said  :  We 
must  join  the  people  and  partake  of  their  labors  and  bur- 
dens, for  they  are  men  like  us,  and  our  riches  come  from 
them ;  but  others  arrogantly  exclaimed :  It  would  be  a 
shame,  an  infamy,  for  us  to  mingle  with  the  crowd ;  they 
are  born  to  serve  us.  Are  we  not  men  of  another  race  — 
the  noble  and  pure  descendants  of  the  conquerors  of  this 
empire?  This  multitude  must  be  reminded  of  our  rights 
and  its  own  origin. 

The  Nobles. —  People  !  know  you  not  that  our  ancestors 
conquered  this  land,  and  that  your  race  was  spared  only  on 
condition  of  serving  us?  This  is  our  social  compact  !  this 
the  government  constituted  by  custom  and  prescribed  by 
time. 

People. —  O  conquerors,  pure  of  blood!  show  us  your 
genealogies  !  we  shall  then  see  if  what  in  an  individual  is 
robbery  and  plunder,  can  be  virtuous  in  a  nation. 

And  forthwith,  voices  were  heard  in  every  quarter  calling 
out  the  nobles  by  their  names ;  and  relating  their  origin 
and  parentage,  they  told  how  the  grandfather,  great-grand- 
father, or  even  father,  born  traders  and  mechanics,  after 
acquiring  wealth  in  every  way,  had  purchased  their  nobility 
for  money  :  so  that  but  very  few  families  were  really  of  the 

*This  dialogue  between  the  people  and  the  indolent  classes,  is 
applicable  to  every  society  ;  it  contains  the  seeds  of  all  the  political 
vices  and  disorders  that  prevail,  and  which  may  thus  be  denned : 
Men  who  do  nothing,  and  who  devour  the  substance  of  others ;  and 
men  who  arrogate  to  themselves  particular  rights  and  exclusive  privi- 
leges of  wealth  and  indolence.  Compare  the  Mamlouks  of  Egypt, 
the  nobility  of  Europe,  the  Nairs  of  India,  the  Emirs  of  Arabia,  the 
patricians  of  Rome,  the  beneficed  clergy,  the  Imans,  the  Bramins,  the 
Bonzes,  the  Lamas,  etc.,  etc.,  and  you  will  find  in  all  the  same  char- 
acteristic feature —  Men  living  in  idleness  at  the  expense  of  those  who 
labor. 

9 


130  VOLNEY 

original  stock.  See,  said  these  voices,  see  these  purse-proud 
commoners  who  deny  their  parents  !  see  these  plebeian  re- 
cruits who  look  upon  themselves  as  illustrious  veterans ! 
and  peals  of  laughter  were  heard. 

And  the  civil  governors  said  :  these  people  are  mild,  and 
naturally  servile ;  speak  to  them  of  the  king  and  of  the  law, 
and  they  will  return  to  their  duty.  People  !  the  king  wills, 
the  sovereign  ordains  ! 

People. —  The  king  can  will  nothing  but  the  good  of 
the  people  ;  the  sovereign  can  only  ordain  according  to  law. 

Civil  Governors. —  The  law  commands  you  to  be  sub- 
missive. 

People. —  The  law  is  the  general  will;  and  we  will  a 
new  order  of  things. 

Civil  Governors. —  You  are  then  a  rebel  people. 

People. —  A  nation  cannot  revolt ;  tyrants  only  are 
rebels. 

Civil  Governors. —  The  king  is  on  our  side  ;  he  com- 
mands you  to  submit. 

People. —  Kings  are  inseparable  from  their  nations.  Our 
king  cannot  be  with  you  ;    you    possess   only    his   phantom. 

And  the  military  governors  came  forward.  The  people 
are  timorous,  said  they  ;  we  must  threaten  them ;  they  will 
submit  only  to  force.  Soldiers,  chastise  this  insolent  mul- 
titude. 

People. — Soldiers,  you  are  of  our  blood !  Will  you 
strike  your  brothers,  your  relatives?  If  the  people  perish 
who  will  nourish  the  army? 

And  the  soldiers,  grounding  their  arms,  said  to  the  chiefs : 
We  are  likewise  the  people ;  show  us  the  enemy  ! 

And  the  little  group  said :  We  are  lost  !  the  mulitude  are 
enlightened. 

And  the  people  answered :  You  are  safe ;  since  we  are  en- 
lightened we  will  commit  no  violence  ;  we  only  claim  our 
rights.  We  feel  resentments,  but  we  will  forget  them.  We 
were  slaves,  we  might  command ;  but  we  only  wish  to  be 
free,  and  liberty  is  but  justice. 


THE  RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  131 


A  FREE  AND  LEGISLATIVE  PEOPLE 

Considering  that  all  public  power  was  now  suspended, 
and  that  the  habitual  restraint  of  the  people  had 
suddenly  ceased,  I  shuddered  with  the  apprehension 
that  they  would  fall  into  the  dissolution  of  anarchy.  But, 
taking  their  affairs  into  immediate    deliberation,  they  said : 

It  is  not  enough  that  we  have  freed  ourselves  from  ty- 
rants and  parasites ;  we  must  prevent  their  return.  We  are 
men,  and  experience  has  abundantly  taught  us  that  every 
man  is  fond  of  power,  and  wishes  to  enjoy  it  at  the  ex- 
pense of  others.  It  is  necessary,  then,  to  guard  against  a 
propensity  which  is  the  source  of  discord  ;  we  must  estab- 
lish certain  rules  of  duty  and  of  right.  But  the  knowledge 
of  our  rights,  and  the  estimation  of  our  duties,  are  so  ab- 
stract and  difficult  as  to  require  all  the  time  and  all  the 
faculties  of  a  man.  Occupied  in  our  own  affairs,  we  have 
not  leisure  for  these  studies ;  nor  can  we  exercise  these 
functions  in  our  own  persons.  Let  us  choose,  then,  among 
ourselves,  such  persons  as  are  capable  of  this  employment. 
To  them  we  will  delegate  our  powers  to  institute  our  gov- 
ernment and  laws.  They  shall  be  the  representatives  of 
our  wills  and  of  our  interests.  And  in  order  to  attain  the 
fairest  representation  possible  of  our  wills  and  our  inter- 
ests, let  it  be  numerous,  and  composed  of  men  resembling 
ourselves. 

Having  made  the  election  of  a  numerous  body  of  dele- 
gates, the  people  thus  addressed  them  : — 

We  have  hitherto  lived  in  a  society  formed  by  chance, 
without  fixed  agreements,  without  free  conventions,  without 
a  stipulation  of  rights,  without  reciprocal  engagements, — 
and  a  multitude  of  disorders  and  evils  have  arisen  from 
this  precarious  state.  We  are  now  determined  on  forming 
a  regular  compact  ;  and  we  have  chosen  you  to  adjust  the 
articles.  Examine,  then,  with  care  what  ought  to  be  its 
basis  and  its  conditions  ;  consider  what  is  the  end  and  the 
principles  of  every  association  ;  recognize  the  rights  which 
every  member  brings,  the  powers  which   he   delegates,  and 


132  VOLNEY 

those  which  he  reserves  to  himself.  Point  out  to  us  the 
rules  of  conduct  —  the  basis  of  just  and  equitable  laws. 
Prepare  for  us  a  new  system  of  government  ;  for  we  real- 
ize that  the  one  which  has  hitherto  guided  us  is  corrupt. 
Our  fathers  have  wandered  in  the  paths  of  ignorance,  and 
habit  has  taught  us  to  follow  in  their  footsteps.  Every- 
thing has  been  done  by  fraud,  violence,  and  delusion  ;  and 
the  true  laws  of  morality  and  reason  are  still  obscure. 
Clear  up,  then,  their  chaos ;  trace  out  their  connection ; 
publish  their  code,  and  we  will  adopt  it. 

And  the  people  raised  a  large  throne,  in  the  form  of  a 
pyramid,  and  seating  on  it  the  men  they  had  chosen,  said 
to  them  : — 

We  raise  you  to-day  above  us,  that  you  may  better  dis- 
cover the  whole  of  our  relations,  and  be  above  the  reach  of 
our  passions.  But  remember  that  you  are  our  fellow- 
citizens  ;  that  the  power  we  confer  on  you  is  our  own  ; 
that  we  deposit  it  with  you,  but  not  as  a  property  or  a 
heritage  ;  that  you  must  be  the  first  to  obey  the  laws  you 
make ;  that  to-morrow  you  redescend  among  us,  and  that 
you  will  have  acquired  no  other  right  but  that  of  our  es- 
teem and  gratitude.  And  consider  what  a  tribute  of  glory 
the  world,  which  reveres  so  many  apostles  of  error,  will 
bestow  on  the  first  assembly  of  rational  men,  who  shall 
have  declared  the  unchangeable  principles  of  justice,  and 
consecrated,  in  the  face  of  tyrants,  the  rights  of  nations. 


UNIVERSAL  BASIS  OF  ALL  RIGHT  AND  ALL  LAW 

Thb  men  chosen   by  the    people    to    investigate   the   true 
principles  of  morals  and   of  reason    then   proceeded  in 
the  sacred  object  of  their  mission  ;    and,   after  a  long 
examination,  having  discovered  a  fundamental  and  universal 
principle,  a  legislator  arose  and  said  to  the  people : — 

Here  is  the    primordial    basis,   the    physical    origin   of  all 
justice  and  of  all  right. 

Whatever  be   the   active   power,  the    moving   cause,  that 
governs   the    universe,  since    it   has  given   to    all    men  the 


THE   RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  133 

same  organs,  the  same  sensations,  and  the  same  wants,  it 
has  thereby  declared  that  it  has  given  to  all  the  same 
right  to  the  use  of  its  treasures,  and  that  all  men  are 
equal  in  the  order   of  nature. 

And,  since  this  power  has  given  to  each  man  the  neces- 
sary means  of  preserving  his  own  existence,  it  is  evident 
that  it  has  constituted  them  all  independent  one  of  an- 
other; that  it  has  created  them  free;  that  no  one  is  subject 
to  another;  that  each  one  is  absolute  proprietor  of  his  own 
person. 

Equality  and  liberty  are,  therefore,  two  essential  at- 
tributes of  man,  two  laws  of  the  Divinity,  constitutional 
and  unchangeable,  like  the  physical  properties  of  matter. 

Now,  every  individual  being  absolute  master  of  his  own 
person,  it  follows  that  a  full  and  free  consent  is  a  condition 
indispensable  to  all  contracts  and  all  engagements. 

Again,  since  each  individual  is  equal  to  another,  it  fol- 
lows that  the  balance  of  what  is  received  and  of  what  is 
given,  should  be  strictly  in  equilibrium;  so  that  the  idea 
of  justice,  of   equity,  necessarily  imports  that  of   equality.* 

Equality  and  liberty  are  therefore  the  physical  and  un- 
alterable basis  of  every  union  of  men  in  society,  and  of 
course  the  necessary  and  generating  principle  of  every  law 
and  of  every  system  of  regular  government,  f 

A  disregard  of  this  basis  has  introduced  in  your  nation, 
and  in  every  other,  those  disorders  which  have  finally 
roused  yon.  It  is  by  returning  to  this  rule  that  you  may 
reform  them,  and  reorganize  a  happy  order  of  society. 

*The  etymology  of  the  words  themselves  trace  out  to  us  this  con- 
nection ;  equilibrium,  equalitas,  equilas,  are  all  of  one  family,  and 
the  physical  idea  of  equality,  in  the  scales  of  a  balance,  is  the  source 
and  type  of  all  the  rest. 

fin  the  Declaration  of  Rights,  there  is  an  inversion  of  ideas  in 
the  first  article,  liberty  being  placed  before  equality,  from  which  it  in 
reality  springs.  This  defect  is  not  to  be  wondered  at ;  the  science  of 
the  rights  of  man  is  a  new  science :  it  was  invented  yesterday  by  the 
Americans,  to-day  the  French  a^e  perfecting  it,  but  there  yet  remains 
a  great  deal  to  be  done.  In  the  ideas  that  constitute  it  there  is  a 
genealogical  order  which,  from  its  basis,  physical  equality,  to  the 
minutest  and  most  remote  branches  of  government,  ought  to  proceed 
in  an  uninterrupted  series  of  inferences. 


134  VOLNEY 

But  observe,  this  reorganization  will  occasion  a  violent 
shock  in  your  habits,  your  fortunes,  and  your  prejudices. 
Vicious  contracts  and  abusive  claims  must  be  dissolved, 
unjust  distinctions  and  ill-founded  property  renounced ;  you 
must  indeed  recur  for  a  moment  to  a  state  of  nature.  Con- 
sider whether  you  can  consent  to  so  many  sacrifices. 

Then,  reflecting  on  the  cupidity  inherent  in  the  heart  of 
man,  I  thought  that  this  people  would  renounce  all  ideas 
of  amelioration. 

But,  in  a  moment,  a  great  number  of  men,  advancing  to- 
ward the  pyramid,  made  a  solemn  abjuration  of  all  their 
distinctions  and  all  their  riches. 

Establish  for  us,  said  they,  the  laws  of  equality  and 
liberty ;  we  will  possess  nothing  in  future  but  on  the  title 
of  justice. 

Equality,  liberty,  justice,  —  these  shall  be  our  code,  and 
shall  be  written  on  our  standards. 

And  the  people  immediately  raised  a  great  standard,  in- 
scribed with  these  three  words,  in  three  different  colors. 
They  displayed  it  over  the  pyramid  of  the  legislators,  and 
for  the  first  time  the  flag  of  universal  justice  floated  on 
the  face  of  the  earth. 

And  the  people  raised  before  the  pyramid  a  new  altar, 
on  which  they  placed  a  golden  balance,  a  sword,  and  a 
book  with  this  inscription  :  — 

TO   EQUAL   LAW,    WHICH  JUDGES   AND   PROTECTS. 

And  having  surrounded  the  pyramid  and  the  altar  with 
a  vast  amphitheatre,  all  the  people  took  their  seats  to  hear 
the  publication  of  the  law.  And  millions  of  men,  raising 
at  once  their  hands  to  heaven,  took  the  solemn  oath  to 
live  equal,  free,  and  just ;  to  respect  their  reciprocal  proper- 
ties and  rights ;  to  obey  the  law  and  its  regularly  chosen 
representatives. 

A  spectacle  so  impressive  and  sublime,  so  replete  with 
generous  emotions,  moved  me  to  tears ;  and  addressing  my- 
self to  the  Genius,  I  exclaimed  :  I^et  me  now  live,  for  in 
future  I  have  everything  to  hope. 


THE   RUINS  OF   EMPIRES  135 


CONSTERNATION  AND  CONSPIRACY  OF  TYRANTS 

But  scarcely  had  the  solemn  voice  of  liberty  and  equality 
resounded  through  the  earth,  when  a  movement  of 
confusion,  of  astonishment,  arose  in  different  nations. 
On  the  one  hand,  the  people,  warmed  with  desire,  but 
wavering  between  hope  and  fear,  between  the  sentiment  of 
right  and  the  habit  of  obedience,  began  to  be  in  motion. 
The  kings,  on  the  other  hand,  suddenly  awakened  from  the 
sleep  of  indolence  and  despotism,  were  alarmed  for  the  safety 
of  their  thrones ;  while,  on  all  sides,  those  clans  of  civil 
and  religious  tyrants,  who  deceive  kings  and  oppress  the 
people,  where  seized  with  rage  and  consternation  ;  and,  con- 
certing their  perfidious  plans,  they  said :  Woe  to  us,  if 
this  fatal  cry  of  liberty  comes  to  the  ears  of  the  multi- 
tude !  Woe  to  us,  if  this  pernicious  spirit  of  justice  be 
propagated  ! 

And,  pointing  to  the  floating  banner,  they  continued  :  — 
Consider  what  a  swarm  of  evils  are  included  in  these  three 
words  !  If  all  men  are  equal,  where  is  our  exclusive  right 
to  honors  and  to  power?  If  all  men  are  to  be  free,  what 
becomes  of  our  slaves,  our  vassals,  our  property?  If  all 
are  equal  in  the  civil  state,  where  is  our  prerogative  of 
birth,  of  inheritance?  and  what  becomes  of  nobility?  If 
they  are  all  equal  in  the  sight  of  God,  what  need  of  media- 
tors?—  where  is  the  priesthood?  Let  us  hasten,  then,  to 
destroy  a  germ  so  prolific,  and  so  contagious.  We  must 
employ  all  our  cunning  against  this  innovation.  We  must 
frighten  the  kings,  that  they  may  join  us  in  the  cause. 
We  must  divide  the  people  by  national  jealousies,  and  oc- 
cupy them  with  commotions,  wars,  and  conquests.  They 
must  be  alarmed  at  the  power  of  this  free  nation.  Let  us 
form  a  league  against  the  common  enemy,  demolish  that 
sacrilegious  standard,  overturn  that  throne  of  rebellion,  and 
stifle  in  its  birth  the  flame  of  revolution. 

And,  indeed,  the  civil  and  religious  tyrants  of  nations 
formed  a  general  combination ;  and,  multiplying  their  fol- 
lowers   by    force    and    seduction,    they    marched    in    hostile 


136  VOLNEY 

array  against  the  free  nation  ;  and  surrounding  the  altar 
and  the  pyramid  of  natural  law,  they  demanded  with  loud 
cries :  — ■ 

What  is  this  new  and  heretical  doctrine?  what  this  im- 
pious altar,  this  sacrilegious  worship  ?  True  believers  and 
loyal  subjects  !  can  you  suppose  that  truth  has  been  first 
discovered  to-day,  and  that  hitherto  you  have  been  walking 
in  error?  that  those  men,  more  fortunate  than  you  have  the 
sole  privilege  of  wisdom  ?  And  you,  rebel  and  mis- 
guided nation,  perceive  you  not  that  your  new  leaders  are 
misleading  you?  that  they  destroy  the  principles  of  your 
faith,  and  overturn  the  religion  of  your  ancestors?  Ah, 
tremble !  lest  the  wrath  of  heaven  should  kindle  against 
you;  and  hasten  by  speedy  repentance  to  retrieve  your 
error. 

But,  inaccessible  to  seduction  as  well  as  to  fear,  the  free 
nation  kept  silence,  and  rising  universally  in  arms,  assumed 
an  imposing  attitude. 

And  the  legislator  said  to  the  chiefs  of  nations :  — 

If  while  we  walked  with  a  bandage  on  our  eyes  the  light 
guided  our  steps,  why,  since  we  are  no  longer  blindfold, 
should  it  fly  from  our  search?  If  guides,  who  teach  man- 
kind to  see  for  themselves,  mislead  and  deceive  them,  what 
can  be  expected  from  those  who  profess  to  keep  them  in 
darkness  ? 

But  hark,  ye  leaders  of  nations  !  If  you  possess  the  truth 
show  it  to  us,  and  we  will  receive  it  with  gratitude,  for 
we  seek  it  with  ardor,  and  have  a  great  interest  in  finding 
it.  We  are  men,  and  liable  to  be  deceived  ;  but  you  are 
also  men,  and  equally  fallible.  Aid  us  then  in  this  laby- 
rinth, where  the  human  race  has  wandered  for  so  many 
ages ;  help  us  to  dissipate  the  illusion  of  so  many  prejudices 
and  vicious  habits.  Amid  the  shock  of  so  many  opinions 
which  dispute  for  our  acceptance,  assist  us  in  discovering 
the  proper  and  distinctive  character  of  truth.  Let  us  this 
day  terminate  the  long  combat  with  error.  Let  us  estab- 
lish between  it  and  truth  a  solemn  contest,  to  which  we 
will  invite  the  opinions  of  men  of  all  nations.  Let  us  con- 
voke a  general  assembly  of  the  nations.  Let  them  be 
judges  in  their  own  cause  ;  and  in  the  debate  of  all  systems, 


THE   RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  137 

let  no  champion,  no  argument,  be  wanting,  either  on  the 
side  of  prejudice  or  of  reason  ;  and  let  the  sentiment  of  a 
general  and  common  mass  of  evidence  give  birth  to  a  uni- 
versal concord  of  opinions  and  of  hearts. 


GENERAL  ASSEMBLY  OF  THE  NATIONS 

Thus  spoke  the  legislator  ;  and  the  multitude,  seized  with 
those  emotions  which  a  reasonable  proposition  always 
inspires,  expressed  its  applause  ;  while  the  tyrants, 
left  without  support,  were  overwhelmed  with  confusion. 

A  scene  of  a  new  and  astonishing  nature  then  opened  to 
my  view.  All  that  the  earth  contains  of  people  and  of  na- 
tions ;  men  of  every  race  and  of  every  region,  converging 
from  their  various  climates,  seemed  to  assemble  in  one  al- 
lotted place;  where,  forming  an  immense  congress,  distin- 
guished in  groups  by  the  vast  variety  of  their  dresses, 
features,  and  complexion,  the  numberless  multitude  pre- 
sented a  most  unusual  and  affecting  sight. 

On  one  side  I  saw  the  European,  with  his  short  close 
coat,  pointed  triangular  hat,  smooth  chin,  and  powdered 
hair  ;  on  the  other  side  the  Asiatic,  with  a  flowing  robe, 
long  beard,  shaved  head,  and  round  turban.  Here  stood 
the  nations  of  Africa,  with  their  ebony  skins,  their  woolly 
hair,  their  body  girt  with  white  and  blue  tissues  of  bark, 
adorned  with  bracelets  and  necklaces  of  coral,  shells,  and 
glass ;  there  the  tribes  of  the  north,  enveloped  in  their 
leathern  bags ;  the  Laplander,  with  his  pointed  bonnet  and 
his  snow-shoes  ;  the  Samoyede,  with  his  feverish  body  and 
strong  odor  ;  the  Tongouse,  with  his  horned  cap,  and  carry- 
ing his  idols  pendant  from  his  neck  ;  the  Yakoute,  with  his 
freckled  face  ;  the  Kalmuc,  with  his  flat  nose  and  little  re- 
torted eyes.  Farther  distant  were  the  Chinese,  attired  in 
silk,  with  their  hair  hanging  in  tresses ;  the  Japanese,  of 
mingled  race  ;  the  Malays,  with  wide-spreading  ears,  rings 
in  their  noses,  and  palm-leaf  hats  of  vast  circumference  ; 
and  the  tatooed  races  of  the  isles  of  the  southern  ocean  and 
of  the  continent  of  the  antipodes.  The  view  of  so  many 
varieties  of  the  same  species,  of  so  many  extravagant  inven- 


138  VOLNEY 

tions  of  the  same  understanding,  and  of  so  many  modifica- 
tions of  the  same  organization,  affected  me  with  a  thousand 
feelings  and  a  thousand  thoughts.*  I  contemplated  with 
astonishment  this  gradation  of  color,  which,  passing  from  a 
bright  carnation  to  a  light  brown,  a  deeper  brown,  dusky, 
bronze,  olive,  leaden,  copper,  ends  in  the  black  of  ebony 
and  of  jet.  And  finding  the  Cassimerian,  with  his  rosy 
cheek,  next  to  the  sun-burnt  Hindoo,  and  the  Georgian  by 
the  side  of  the  Tartar,  I  reflected  on  the  effects  of  climate 
hot  or  cold,  of  soil  high  or  low,  marshy  or  dry,  open  or 
shaded.  I  compared  the  dwarf  of  the  pole  with  the  giant 
of  the  temperate  zones,  the  slender  body  of  the  Arab  with 
the  ample  chest  of  the  Hollander;  the  squat  figure  of  the 
Samoyede  with  the  elegant  form  of  the  Greek  and  the 
Sclavonian ;  the  greasy  black  wool  of  the  Negro  with 
the  bright  silken  locks  of  the  Dane  ;  the  broad  face  of  the 
Kalmuc,  his  little  angular  eyes  and  flattened  nose,  with  the 
oval  prominent  visage,  large  blue  eyes,  and  aquiline  nose 
of  the  Circassian  and  Abazan.  I  contrasted  the  brilliant 
calicoes  of  the  Indian,  the  well-wrought  stuffs  of  the  Euro- 
pean, the  rich  furs  of  the  Siberian,  with  the  tissues  of  bark, 
of  osiers,  leaves,  and  feathers  of  savage  nations ;  and  the 
blue  figures  of  serpents,  flowers,  and  stars,  with  which  they 
painted  their  bodies.  Sometimes  the  variegated  appearance 
of  this  multitude  reminded  me  of  the  enamelled  meadows 
of  the  Nile  and  the  Euphrates,  when,  after  rains  or  inun- 
dations, millions  of  flowers  are  rising  on  every  side.  Some- 
times their  murmurs  and  their  motions  called    to    mind  the 

*A  hall  of  costumes  in  one  of  the  galleries  of  the  Louvre  would, 
in  every  point  of  view,  be  an  interesting  establishment.  It  would 
furnish  an  admirable  treat  to  the  curiosity  of  a  great  number  of  per- 
sons, excellent  models  to  the  artist,  and  useful  subjects  of  meditation 
to  the  physician,  the  philosopher,  and  the  legislator. 

Picture  to  yourself  a  collection  of  the  various  faces  and  figures  of 
every  country  and  nation,  exhibiting  accurately,  color,  features,  and 
form  ;  what  a  field  for  investigation  and  inquiry  as  to  the  influence  of 
climate,  customs,  food,  etc.  It  might  truly  be  called  the  science  of 
man !  Buffon  has  attempted  a  chapter  of  this  nature,  but  it  only 
serves  to  exhibit  more  strikingly  our  actual  ignorance.  Such  a  col- 
lection is  said  to  have  been  begun  at  St.  Petersburg,  but  it  is  also  said 
at  the  same  time  to  be  as  imperfect  as  the  vocabulary  of  the  three  hun- 
dred languages.     The  enterprise  would  be  worthy  of  the  French  nation. 


THE   RUINS   OF   EMPIRES  139 

numberless  swarms  of  locusts  which,  issuing  from  the  des- 
ert, cover  in  the  spring  the  plains  of  Hauran. 

At  the  sight  of  so  many  rational  beings,  considering  on 
the  one  hand  the  immensity  of  thoughts  and  sensa- 
tions assembled  in  this  place,  and  on  the  other  hand,  re- 
flecting on  the  opposition  of  so  many  opinions,  and  the  shock 
of  so  many  passions  of  men  so  capricious,  I  struggled  between 
astonishment,  admiration,  and  secret  dread — when  the  legis- 
lator commanded  silence,  and  attracted  all  my  attention. 

Inhabitants  of  earth !  a  free  and  powerful  nation  ad- 
dresses you  with  words  of  justice  and  peace,  and  she  offers 
you  the  sure  pledges  of  her  intentions  in  her  own  convic- 
tion and  experience.  Long  afflicted  with  the  same  evils  as 
yourselves,  we  sought  for  their  source,  and  found  them  all 
derived  from  violence  and  injustice,  erected  into  law  by  the 
inexperience  of  past  ages,  and  maintained  by  the  prejudices 
of  the  present.  Then  abolishing  our  artificial  and  arbitrary 
institutions,  and  recurring  to  the  origin  of  all  right  and 
reason,  we  have  found  that  there  existed  in  the  very  order 
of  nature  and  in  the  physical  constitution  of  man,  eternal 
and  immutable  laws,  which  only  waited  his  observance  to 
render  him  happy. 

O  men  !  cast  your  eyes  on  the  heavens  that  give  you 
light,  and  on  the  earth  that  gives  you  bread  1  Since  they 
offer  the  same  bounties  to  you  all  —  since  from  the  power 
that  gives  them  motion  you  have  all  received  the  same  life, 
the  same  organs,  have  you  not  likewise  all  received  the 
same  right  to  enjoy  its  benefits?  Has  it  not  hereby  de- 
clared you  all  equal  and  free?  What  mortal  shall  dare  re- 
fuse to  his  fellow  that  which  nature  gives  him  ? 

O  nations !  let  us  banish  all  tyranny  and  all  discord ;  let 
us  form  but  one  society,  one  great  family  ;  and,  since  hu- 
man nature  has  but  one  constitution,  let  there  exist  in 
future  but  one  law,  that  of  nature — but  one  code,  that  of 
reason  —  but  one  throne,  that  of  justice  —  but  one  altar, 
that  of  union. 

He  ceased  ;  and  an  immense  acclamation  resounded  to  the 
skies.  Ten  thousand  benedictions  announced  the  transports 
of  the  multitude ;  and  they  made  the  earth  re-echo  justice, 
equality,  and  UNION. 


Ho  VOLNEY 

But  different  emotions  soon  succeeded  ;  soon  the  doctors 
and  the  chiefs  of  nations  exciting  a  spirit  of  dispute,  there 
was  heard  a  sullen  murmur,  which  growing  louder,  and 
spreading  from  group  to  group,  became  a  vast  disorder; 
and  each  nation  setting  up  exclusive  pretensions,  claimed  a 
preference  for  its  own  code  and  opinion. 

You  are  in  error,  said  the  parties,  pointing  one  to  the 
other.  We  alone  are  in  possession  of  reason  and  truth. 
We  alone  have  the  true  law,  the  real  rule  of  right  and 
justice,  the  only  means  of  happiness  and  perfection.  All 
other  men  are  either  blind  or  rebellious. 

And  great  agitation  prevailed. 

Then  the  legislator,  after  enforcing  silence,  loudly  ex- 
claimed :  — 

What,  O  people !  is  this  passionate  emotion  ?  Whither 
will  this  quarrel  conduct  you?  What  can  you  expect  from 
this  dissension  ?  The  earth  has  been  for  ages  a  field  of 
disputation,  and  you  have  shed  torrents  of  blood  in  your 
controversies,  What  have  you  gained  by  so  many  battles 
and  tears?  When  the  strong  has  subjected  the  weak  to 
his  opinion,  has  he  thereby  aided  the  cause  of  truth? 

O  nations !  take  counsel  of  your  own  wisdom.  When 
among  yourselves  disputes  arise  between  families  and  indi- 
viduals, how  do  you  reconcile  them?  Do  you  not  give 
them  arbitrators? 

Yes,  cried  the  whole  multitude. 

Do  so  then  to  the  authors  of  your  present  dissensions. 
Order  those  who  call  themselves  your  instructors,  and  who 
force  their  creeds  upon  you,  to  discuss  before  you  their 
reasons.  Since  they  appeal  to  your  interests,  inform  your- 
selves how  they  support  them. 

And  you,  chiefs  and  governors  of  the  people !  before 
dragging  the  masses  into  the  quarrels  resulting  from  your 
diverse  opinions,  let  the  reasons  for  and  against  your  views 
be  given.  Let  us  establish  one  solemn  controversy,  one 
public  scrutiny  of  truth  —  not  before  the  tribunal  of  a  cor- 
ruptible individual,  or  of  a  prejudiced  party,  but  in  the 
grand  forum  of  mankind — guarded  by  all  their  information 
and  all  their  interests.  Let  the  natural  sense  of  the 
whole  human  race  be  our  arbiter  and  judge. 


MfeRIMEE 


Letters  to  Anonyma 


(Hi) 


PROSPER  MF.RIMF.E 

Prosper  MerimEE  was  born  in  Paris  in  1803  and  died 
in  1870.  Though  a  writer  of  exceptional  gifts  and 
range,  he  will  perhaps  be  best  known  to  posterity  by 
his  Lettres  &  Une  Inconnue,  only  published  after  the 
author's  death.  He  knew  the  languages  and  literatures  of 
England,  Spain,  Italy,  Germany,  and  Russia,  besides  the 
classics,  and  was  an  enthusiastic  archaeologist.  In  early  life 
he  published  translations  of  plays,  and  original  works  in 
history  and  fiction.  His  novel  "Columba"  is  still  popu- 
lar. He  became  an  Academician  in  1844  and  a  Senator  in 
1853.  He  had  cultivated  an  austere  manner  which  mysti- 
fied his  friends.  They  believed  him  incapable  of  any  ten- 
der emotion.  A  cynic  of  cynics,  he  was  supposed  to  be  a 
stranger  to  love.  The  greater,  therefore,  was  the  surprise 
when  these  (<  Letters  *  revealed  Merimee  as  the  clandestine 
lover,  not  the  slave  of  love,  indeed,  but  still  entangled  in 
its  web,  which  he  did  not  seriously  try  to  break.  Who 
the  Anonyma  was  we  do  not  know,  nor  does  it  matter. 
Whether  a  French  or  English  woman,  her  power  is  con- 
fessed in  these  strangest  of  genuine  love  letters.  They 
sparkle  with  wit  and  a  hundred  charms  not  commonly 
found  in  epistles  acceptable  to  the  average  feminine  heart 
as  substitutes  for  the  poetical.  The  correspondence  lasted 
from  1842  until  1870. 

(i43) 


LETTERS  TO  ANONYMA 

Paris,  Thursday.  —  Everything  about  you  is  mysterious; 
and  the  causes   inducing   in   others   a   certain   line  of 

conduct,  impel  you  always  to  opposite  action.  I  am 
becoming  accustomed  to  your  ways,  and  nothing  any  longer 
surprises  me.  Spare  me,  I  beg  of  you  ;  do  not  put  to  too 
harsh  a  test  the  unfortunate  habit  I  have  contracted  of 
finding  good  in  all  that  you  do.  I  was  perhaps  a  little  too 
frank  in  my  last  letter,  in  speaking  of  my  character.  An 
old  diplomatist,  a  shrewd  man  of  the  world,  has  often  ad- 
vised me,  <(  Never  say  any  ill  of  yourself ;  your  dear  friends 
will  say  quite  enough. M  Do  not,  however,  take  literally  my 
self -depreciation ;  believe,  rather,  that  my  chief  virtue  is 
modesty,  which  I  carry  to  excess,  and  I  tremble  lest  it  in- 
jure me  in  your  estimation.  I  may  at  another  time,  when 
inspired,  supply  you  With  an  exact  catalogue  of  my  quali- 
ties ;  for  the  list  will  be  long,  and  being  to-day  slightly  in- 
disposed I  dare  not  project  myself  into  this  <(  progression  of 
the  infinite.  *  You  cannot  guess  where  I  was  on  Saturday 
evening,  and  in  what  engaged  at  midnight.  I  was  on  the 
platform  of  one  of  the  towers  of  Notre  Dame,  drinking 
orangeade  and  eating  ices  in  the  society  of  four  friends  and 
a  magnificent  moon,  with  the  accompaniment  of  a  great  owl 
flapping  his  wings.  Paris  at  this  hour,  and  by  moonlight, 
is  a  superb  spectacle,  resembling  a  city  of  the  <(  Thousand 
and  One  Nights, B  the  inhabitants  of  which  have  been  en- 
chanted during  their  sleep  ;  but  Parisians  usually  go  to  bed  at 
midnight,  and  are  most  stupid  in  so  doing.  Our  party  was 
a  curious  one,  four  nations  being  represented,  each  of  us 
with  a  different  way  of  thinking  ;  but  the  bore  of  it  was, 
that  some  of  us,  inspired  by  the  moon  and  the  owl,  thought 
it  necessary  to  assume  a  poetic  tone  and  indulge  in  plati- 
tudes —  in  fact,  little  by  little  every  one  began  to  utter 
nonsense. 

=°  (1.45) 


i46  MERIMEE 

I  do  not  know  by  what  chain  of  ideas  this  semi-poetic 
evening  leads  me  to  think  of  one  that  was  not  in  the  least 
so ;  a  ball  given  by  some  young  men,  to  which  all  the  opera 
dancers  were  invited.  These  women  are  usually  very  stupid  ; 
but  I  have  observed  how  superior  they  are  in  moral  deli- 
cacy to  the  men  of  their  class.  Only  one  vice  separates 
them  from  other  women  —  that  of  poverty. 

Paris. —  Frankness  and  truth  toward  women  are  not  de- 
sirable—  indeed  quite  the  reverse;  for  see,  you  regard  me 
as  a  Sardanapalus  because  I  have  been  to  a  ball  of  figur- 
antes. You  reproach  me  as  for  a  crime,  and  reprove  as  a 
still  greater  crime  my  praise  of  these  poor  girls.  Make 
them  rich,  I  repeat,  and  only  their  good  qualities  will  re- 
main ;  but  insurmountable  barriers  have  been  raised  by  the 
aristocracy  between  the  different  classes  of  society,  so  that 
few  persons  understand  how  entirely  what  passes  beyond 
the  wall  resembles  what  passes  within.  I  will  tell  you  a 
story  that  I  heard  in  this  perverse  society.  In  the  Rue 
Saint  Honore*  lived  a  poor  woman  who  never  left  her  mis- 
erable attic,  and  who  had  a  little  girl  twelve  years  old,  neat, 
reserved,  well  behaved,  who  never  spoke  to  any  one.  Three 
times  a  week  this  child  left  home  in  the  afternoon,  return- 
ing alone  at  midnight,  being  a  supernumerary  at  the  opera. 
One  night  she  came  down  to  ask  for  a  lighted  candle,  which 
being  given  to  her,  the  porter's  wife  followed  her  after  a 
while  to  the  garret,  where  she  found  the  woman  dead  on 
her  wretched  pallet,  and  the  child  occupied  in  burning  a 
quantity  of  letters  which  she  drew  from  a  battered  trunk. 
She  said,  <(  My  mother  died  to-night,  and  charged  me  to 
burn  these  papers  without  reading  them."  The  child  knows 
the  name  neither  of  father  nor  mother,  is  entirely  alone  in 
the  world,  having  no  other  resource  than  that  of  personat- 
ing monkeys,  vultures  and  devils  on  the  stage.  Her 
mother's  last  counsel  to  her  was,  to  remain  a  figurante  and 
to  be  very  good  ;  which  she  certainly  is,  even  very  pious, 
and  does  not  care  to  relate  her  history.  Will  you  be  good 
enough  to  tell  me  if  there  is  not  infinitely  greater  merit  in 
this  child  leading  such  a  life,  than  belongs  to  you  who  en- 
joy the  singular  happiness  of   irreproachable    surroundings, 


LETTERS  TO  ANONYMA  147 

and  are  endowed  with  a  nature  so  refined  as  to  picture  for 
me,  in  a  measure,  the  bloom  of  civilization?  I  will  tell 
you  the  truth.  I  can  only  endure  low  society  at  rare  in- 
tervals, and  through  an  inexhaustible  curiosity  respecting 
all  varieties  of  the  human  species,  seldom  entering  that  of 
men,  there  being  to  me  something  inexpressibly  repulsive 
in  it,  especially  with  us ;  but  in  Spain,  muleteers  and  bull- 
fighters were  my  friends.  I  have  more  than  once  eaten 
from  the  platter  of  people  at  whom  an  Englishman  would 
not  look  for  fear  of  compromising  his  self-respect ;  and  I 
have  even  drunk  from  the  same  leathern  bottle  with  a  gal- 
ley-slave ;  there  was,  however,  but  one  bottle,  and  one 
must  drink  when  thirsty.  Do  not  believe  that  I  have  a 
predilection  for  the  canaille.  I  simply  like  to  study  differ- 
ent manners,  different  faces,  and  to  hear  a  different  lan- 
guage. Ideas  are  the  same  everywhere,  and  aside  from  the 
merely  conventional,  I  do  not  find  good  breeding  limited 
to  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain.  All  this  is  Arabic  to  you, 
and  I  know  not  why  I  say  it.  My  mother  has  been  very 
ill,  exciting  in  me  great  uneasiness,  but  is  now  out  of 
danger,  and  will  be  in  a  few  days  entirely  restored  to 
health.  I  cannot  endure  anxiety,  and  during  the  period  of 
danger  I  have  been  in  a  state  of  distraction. 

As  a  rule,  never  select  a  woman  for  a  confidante  ;  soon 
or  late  you  would  repent  of  it.  Learn  also,  that  there  is 
nothing  more  common  than  to  do  evil  for  the  very  pleas- 
ure of  it.  Shake  off  your  ideas  of  optimism,  and  be  con- 
vinced that  we  are  in  this  world  simply  to  fight  against 
each  other.  In  this  connection,  I  remember  that  a  learned 
friend  who  reads  hieroglyphics  told  me  that  on  the  Egyp- 
tian sarcophagi  are  often  engraved  these  two  words  :  UFE,  x~. 
war  ;  which  proves  that  I  did  not  originate  the  maxim 
just  given  you.  The  characters  are  represented  by  one  of 
those  vases  called  canopes,  and  a  shield  with  an  arm  hold- 
ing a  lance. 

Paris. —  Your  reproaches  afford  me  great  pleasure.  As 
to  your  over-moral  relative  who  says  so  much  evil  of  me, 
he  recalls  Thwackum,  who  asks  :  Can  any  virtue  exist 
without  religion  ?     Have  you  read  <(  Tom  Jones, B  a  book 


148  MERIMEE 

as  immoral  as  all  of  mine  put  together?  If  it  was  prohib- 
ited, of  course  you  read  it.  What  a  droll  education  you 
receive  in  England  !  And  what  avails  it  !  Breath  is  wasted 
for  years  in  preaching  to  a  young  girl,  with  the  certain  result 
that  she  will  desire  to  know  precisely  that  immoral  per- 
son for  whom  it  was  hoped  to  inspire  her  with  a  holy 
aversion.     What  an  admirable  story  is  that  of  the  serpent  ! 

All  that  I  know  of  you  pleases  me  prodigiously.  I  study 
you  with  ardent  curiosity.  I  have  certain  theories  respect- 
ing the  veriest  trifles, —  gloves,  boots,  buckles,  to  which  I 
attach  much  importance,  having  discovered  that  a  certain 
relation  exists  between  the  character  of  women  and  the 
caprice, —  or  rather,  the  connection  of  ideas  and  the  ratioc- 
ination,—  that  dictates  the  choice  of  such  or  such  stuffs. 
I  could  show,  for  instance,  that  a  woman  who  wears  blue 
gowns  is  a  coquette  and  affects  sentiment. 

I  went  the  other  day  on  a  boating  excursion,  a  number 
of  sailing  vessels  being  on  the  river,  in  one  of  which  were 
several  women  of  a  vulgar  class.  As  the  vessels  reached 
the  shore,  from  one  of  them  stepped  a  man  about  forty 
years  of  age  who  was  persistently  beating  a  drum  for  his 
own  amusement ;  and  while  I  was  admiring  the  musical 
organization  of  this  animal  a  young  woman  approached 
him,  called  him  a  monster,  saying  that  she  had  followed 
him  from  Paris,  and  if  he  declined  to  admit  her  to  his  so- 
ciety he  should  dearly  rue  it.  The  man  continued  to  pound 
his  drum  vigorously  during  this  appeal,  replying  phlegmat- 
ically  that  he  would  not  have  her  in  his  boat,  whereupon 
she  ran  to  the  vessel  moored  farthest  from  the  shore  and 
within  twenty  feet  of  our  own,  and  sprang  into  the  river, 
splashing  us  infamously  ;  but  although  she  had  put  out  my 
cigar  my  indignation  did  not  hinder  me,  aided  by  my 
friends,  from  dragging  her  out  before  she  had  swallowed 
two  glasses  of  the  muddy  water.  The  noble  object  of  such 
despair  had  not  budged,  and  grumbled  between  his  teeth  : 
<(  Why  did  you  pull  her  out  if  she  wished  to  drown  her- 
self ?  *  Why  is  it  that  these  cold,  indifferent  men  are  the 
most  beloved?  I  asked  myself  this  question  as  we  sailed 
home ;  I  ask  it  still,  and  I  beg  you  to  tell  me  if  you 
know. 


LETTERS  TO   ANONYMA  149 

Paris. —  Mariquita  de  mi  alma —  it  is  thus  I  should  begin 
were  we  at  Granada.  I  believe,  notwithstanding  my  anger, 
that  I  love  you  better  in  your  fits  of  pouting  than  I  do  in 
any  other  mood.  One  sentence  of  your  letter  made  me 
laugh  like  one  of  the  blessed.  Without  hostile  prelimina- 
ries for  the  blow,  you  tell  me  short  and  sweet  :  (<  My 
love  is  promised."  You  say  that  you  are  engaged  for  life 
as  if  it  were  simply  for  a  quadrille  !  Very  good  !  My  time, 
it  seems,  has  been  profitably  employed  in  discussing  love, 
marriage,  and  the  rest  of  it  !  You  still  say  and  believe,  that 
when  told  to  <(love  Monsieur, })  you  at  once  love.  Has 
your  engagement  been  signed  before  a  notary?  When  I 
was  a  school-boy  I  received  a  love-letter  with  two  flaming 
hearts  pierced  with  a  dart,  from  a  seamstress,  which  pre- 
cious effusion  was  captured  by  the  school-master,  and  I  locked 
up  ;  and,  as  a  denouement  of  the  drama,  the  object  of  this 
budding  passion  consoled  herself  with  the  cruel  school- 
master. Engagements  are  fatal  to  the  happiness  of  those 
who  subscribe  to  them.  It  is  a  primal  law  of  nature  to 
hold  in  aversion  whatever  savors  of  the  obligatory.  All 
bonds  are  inherently  irksome ;  and  if  so  trammeled,  I 
seriously  believe  that  you  would  love  ME  ;  me,  to  whom 
you  have  promised  nothing. 

To  me  you  appear  very  devout,  superstitious  even.  This 
reminds  me  of  a  pretty  little  girl  from  Granada,  who  when 
mounting  her  mule  to  cross  the  Ronda  Pass,  a  route  famous 
for  robbers,  devoutly  kissed  her  thumb  and  struck  her 
breast  three  times,  assured  by  this  pious  action  that  the 
robbers  would  not  dare  to  show  themselves,  provided 
that  the  Ingles — -that  is  myself;  with  these  people  all 
travelers  are  English  —  would  not  swear  by  the  Blessed 
Virgin  and  the  saints  :  but  only  this  wicked  mode  of  speech 
will  make  these  horses  move  among  such  roads.  See 
"Tristram  Shandy. B  You  are  weak  and  jealous,  two  qual- 
ities not  objectionable  in  a  woman,  but  defects  in  a  man, 
and  I  possess  them  both.  Let  us  cease  quarreling  and  be 
friends.      I  kiss  the  hand  that  you  offer  me  in  pledge  of  peace. 

September. —  You  allude  to  special  reasons  that  prevent 
you  from    seeking    to    be    with    me.     I  respect  secrets    and 


150  MERIMEE 

will  not  pry  into  your  motives.  Some  kind  busybody  may 
have  taken  me  for  the  text  of  a  sermon  that  sways  you ; 
nevertheless,  in  fearing  me  you  would  be  doing  me  an  in- 
finite wrong.  Be  reassured  I  shall  never  be  in  love  with 
you ;  I  am  now  too  old  and  have  been  too  unhappy.  I 
once  felt  myself  falling  in  love  and  fled  to  Spain,  one  of 
the  finest  actions  of  my  life,  the  cause  of  the  journey  never 
being  suspected  by  the  lady.  To  remain,  would  have  been 
to  commit  a  great  folly  —  that  of  offering  to  a  woman  in 
exchange  for  all  that  was  dear  to  her,  a  tenderness  that  I 
was  conscious  of  being  inadequate  to  the  sacrifice  I  should 
have  tempted  her  to  make.  <(  I^ove  excuses  all,  but  we 
must  be  quite  sure  that  it  is  love ;  •  and  this  precept,  be 
assured,  is  more  inflexible  than  those  of  your  Methodistical 
friends.  In  me  you  will  acquire  a  true  friend,  while  I  may 
find  a  woman  with  whom  I  am  not  in  love  and  in  whom  I 
can  confide.  Should  I  die  this  year,  you  will  feel  regret 
at  having  hardly  known  me. 

The  remembrance  of  your  splendid  black  eyes  is  no  in- 
considerable element  of  my  admiration  for  you.  I  am  old, 
and  nearly  insensible  to  beauty,  yet  on  hearing  a  fastidious 
man  say  that  you  are  very  handsome  I  could  not  repress  a 
feeling  of  sadness,  and  for  this  reason  :  that  I  am  horribly 
jealous  (I  am  not  the  least  in  love  with  you)  of  my 
friends,  and  distressed  at  the  thought  that  your  beauty  ex- 
poses you  to  the  attentions  of  men  who  only  appreciate  in 
you  that  which  attracts  me  the  least.  The  truth  is,  I  am  in 
a  frightful  humor ;  nothing  makes  me  so  melancholy  as  a 
marriage.  The  Turks  who  buy  a  woman  after  examining 
her  like  a  fat  sheep,  are  more  honest  than  we  who  cover 
our  shameful  bargain  with  the  transparent  varnish  of 
hypocrisy.  I  have  often  asked  myself  what  I  could  say  to 
my  wife  on  my  wedding  day,  and  have  found  nothing  pos- 
sible unless  it  be  a  compliment  to  her  nightcap.  The  devil 
would  be  very  cunning  to  entrap  me  to  such  a  fete.  The 
woman's  role  is  easier  than  that  of  the  man.  On  that  day 
she  models  herself  after  the  Iphigenia  of  Racine  ;  but  if 
she  observe  at  all  keenly,  what  droll  things  she  must  see  ! 
Of  course  at  this  fete  love  will  be  made  to  you,  and  you 
will  be  regaled  with  allusions  to  domestic  happiness.    When 


LETTERS  TO   ANONYM  A  151 

angry,  the  Andalusians  say  :  <(  I  would  stab  the  sun  but 
for  the  fear  of  leaving  the  world  in  darkness. B 

You  jest  in  saying  so  charmingly  that  you  are  afraid  of 
me.  You  know  that  I  am  ugly,  capricious  in  temper, 
always  abstracted,  and  often  tormenting  when  suffering. 
Do  you  not  find  all  this  reassuring  ?  You  are  no  python- 
ess ;  you  will  never  be  in  love  with  me.  You  are  a  com- 
bination of  the  angel  and  the  devil,  but  the  latter  predomi- 
nates. You  call  me  a  tempter  !  Dare  to  say  that  this 
word  does  not  apply  more  strongly  to  yourself  !  Have  you 
not  thrown  a  bait  to  me,  poor  little  fish  that  I  am?  And 
holding  me  at  the  end  of  your  line  you  keep  me  dancing 
between  heaven  and  earth,  until  weary  of  the  sport  it  may 
please  you  to  cut  me  loose,  and  I  shall  swim  about  with 
the  hook  in  my  gills,  but  never  again  to  find  the  angler. 
Adieu,  nina  de  mi  ojos. 

Lady    M announced    to    me   yesterday    that   you  are 

going  to  be  married.  This  being  so,  burn  my  letters  :  I 
burn  yours,  and  adieu.  You  know  my  principle  that  does 
not  permit  me  to  maintain  an  intimacy  with  a  married 
woman  whom  I  have  known  as  demoiselle,  with  a  widow 
whom  I  have  known  as  wife.  The  change  in  a  woman's 
legal  status  affects  also  her  various  social  relations,  and 
always  for  the  worse.  In  a  word,  I  cannot  bear  my  female 
friends  to  marry,  therefore,  should  you  marry,  let  us  for- 
get each  other.  I  still  love  you  and  commend  myself  to 
your  prayers. 

Paris.  —  We  are  becoming  very  tender.  You  say  to  me, 
Amigo  de  mi  alma,  which  is  very  pretty  on  a  woman's  lips. 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  answer  to  my  question  has 
greatly  pleased  me.  You  say,  perhaps  involuntarily,  to  my 
delight,  that  the  husband  of  a  woman  who  should  resemble 
you  would  inspire  you  with  true  compassion.  I  believe 
this  readily,  and  I  add  that  no  one  would  be  more  un- 
happy, unless  it  be  the  man  who  should  love  you. 
You  must  be  cold  and  mocking  in  your  fits  of  ill  humor, 
with  an  invincible  pride  that  prevents  you  from  saying,  <c  I 
am  in  the  wrong. }>  Add  to  this  an  energy  of  character 
causing  you  to  despise  complaints  and  tears.     When  by  the 


152  MERIMEE 

lapse  of  time  and  force  of  events  we  shall  become  friends, 
it  will  be  seen  which  of  the  two  can  more  skillfully  tor- 
ment the  other.  The  mere  thought  of  it  makes  my  hair 
stand  on  end.  Cannot  we  meet  without  mystery  and  as 
good  friends?  I  am  ill  and  terribly  weary.  Come  to  Paris, 
dear  Mariquita,  and  excite  my  love  anew.  I  shall  never 
be  weary  then. 

Paris.  —  What  is  your  malady  ?  Some  heart  sorrow  ? 
Some  mysterious  phrases  of  yours  would  seem  to  imply  as 
much.  You  both  suffer  and  enjoy  through  the  head,  but 
entre  nous,  I  do  not  believe  that  you  are  yet  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  that  viscus  {vis^re)  called  heart,  which  is  only 
developed  toward  twenty-five  years  of  age,  in  the  forty- 
sixth  degree  of  latitude.  Now  you  are  knitting  your  beau- 
tiful black  eyebrows  and  saying :  <(  The  insolent  fellow, 
to  doubt  that  I  have  a  heart  !  *  This  is,  indeed,  the  great 
pretension  of  the  day  ;  since  the  manufacture  of  such  num- 
bers of  so-called  passionate  romances  and  poems,  all  women 
pretend  to  have  a  heart.  Wait  yet  a  while ;  when  you 
have  a  heart  in  earnest,  send  me  the  tidings.  You  will 
then  regret  the  happy  time  in  which  you  only  lived  by 
the  head,  and  the  ills  you  now  suffer  will  seem  only  pin- 
pricks in  comparison  with  the  stabs  that  will  rain  upon 
you  with  the  birth  of  passion.  Your  gracious  promise  to 
give  me  your  portrait  is  a  double  pleasure,  as  a  proof  of 
your  increased  confidence,  in  me.  I  am  thinking  at  this 
moment  of  the  expression  of  your  countenance,  which  is  a 
little  hard  :  a  lioness,  though  tame.  I  kiss  your  mys- 
terious feet  a  thousand  times.     Adieu. 

London,  December. —  Tell  me,  in  the  name  of  God,  if 
you  be  of  God,  querida  Mariquita,  why  have  you  not  an- 
swered my  letter?  Your  last  one  put  me  into  such  a  flut- 
ter that  my  reply,  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  was 
hardly  common  sense.  Why  will  you  not  see  me?  Your 
chief  motive  appears  to  be  the  dread  of  doing  something 
improper,  as  they  say  here.  I  do  not  accept  as  serious 
your  fear  that  a  more  intimate  knowledge  of  me  may  de- 
stroy your  illusions.     Were   this    indeed   your    motive,  you 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  153 

would  be  the  first  woman,  the  first  human  being  even,  the 
gratification  of  whose  desires  or  curiosity  had  been  hindered 
by  a  similar  consideration.  The  thing  can  be  improper 
only  as  regards  society.  You  know  in  advance  that  I  shall 
not  eat  you.  Note  in  passing,  that  this  word  society 
makes  us  unhappy  from  the  moment  of  donning  inconve- 
nient garments  at  its  behests,  until  the  day  of  our  death.  A 
man's  discretion,  and  mine  exceptionally,  is  the  greater  in 
proportion  that  it  is  trusted.  There  is,  and  there  will  be 
throughout  your  life,  a  conflict  between  your  intuitions 
and  your  conventual  ciscipline ;  thence  arises  the  whole 
difficulty. 

The  sea  always  makes  me  excessively  ill,  and  the  glad 
waters  of  the  dark  blue  SEA  are  only  agreeable  to  me 
when  seen  from  the  shore  ;  after  my  first  voyage  to  Eng- 
land it  required  a  fortnight  to  restore  my  usual  color,  that 
of  the  pale  horse  of  the  Apocalypse.  One  day  at  dinner  I 
was  seated  opposite  to  Madame  V ,  who  suddenly  ex- 
claimed, <(  Until  to-day  I  thought  you  were  an  Indian  ! >} 

Paris,  March,  1842. — Since  you  do  not  refuse  my  gifts, 
I  send  you  conserves  of  rose,  bergamot,  and  jasmine.  I 
offered  you  Turkish  slippers,  but  have  been  plundered. 
Will  you  have  this  Turkish  mirror  in  exchange?  It  may 
be  more  acceptable,  for  you  strike  me  as  being  even  more 
coquette  than  in  the  year  of  grace  1840.  It  was  in  De- 
cember, and  you  wore  ribbed  silk  stockings. 

You  are  now  rich  —  rich,  that  is  to  say  free.     A    capital 
idea  this  of  your  friend,   who  is  another  Auld  Robin  Gray. 
He  must  have  been  in  love  with  you,  which  you  will  never 
confess,  for  you  too  dearly  love  mystery.     Why   not   go   to*7 
Rome  and  Naples  to  see  the  sun  ?    You  are  worthy  of  com-  \ 
prehendiug   Italy,  and    would    return    richer   in    ideas    and 
sensations.     I  do  not  advise   Greece  ;    your  skin  is    not  suf-  \ 
ficiently    tough  to    resist  all    the  villainous   insects  that   de- 
vour one  in  that  classic  land.     Speaking  of   Greece,   I  send 
you  a  blade  of   grass    gathered    on    the    hill    of    Anthela   at 
Thermopylae,  on  the  spot  where  fell  the  last  of   the  <(  three 
hundred. w     It  is   not  improbable  that  particles  of   the   dead  \     / 
Leonidas  mingle  with   the   constituent   atoms  of   this  little  . 


154  MERIMEE 

flower.  It  was,  I  remember,  at  this  very  spot,  while  ly- 
ing on  heaped-up  straw  and  talking  to  my  friend  Ampere, 
that  I  told  him  that  among  the  tender  memories  re- 
maining to  me  there  was  only  one  unmixed  with  bitter- 
ness.     I  thought  of   our  beautiful   youth.     Pray  keep  my 

FOOLISH    FLOWER. 

I  revisited  my  dear  Spain  in  1840,  passing  two  months 
at  Madrid  where  I  saw  a  droll  revolution,  admirable  bull- 
fights, and  the  triumphal  entry  of  Espartero,  the  most 
comical  show  possible.  I  stayed  at  the  country-house  of  a 
friend,  who  in  her  devotion  to  me  is  a  sister,  and  went 
every  morning  to  Madrid,  returning  to  dine  with  six  charm- 
ing women,  of  whom  the  eldest  was  thirty-six  years  old. 
Owing  to  the  revolution  I  was  the  only  man  permitted  to 
go  and  come  freely,  so  these  six  unfortunates  had  no  other 
cortejo.  They  spoiled  me  prodigiously.  I  was  not  in  love 
with  any  of  them,  in  which  perhaps  I  was  wrong ;  and 
though  not  deceived  by  these  privileges  conferred  by  the 
revolution,  I  found  it  very  sweet  to  be  Sultan,  even  ad 
honores.  On  my  return  I  indulged  in  the  innocent  pleasure 
of  having  a  book  printed,  not  published,  magnificent  in 
binding  and  engravings.  I  would  offer  you  this  rarity,  but 
it  is  historic  and  pedantic,  and  so  bristling  with  Greek, 
Latin,  and  even  Osque  (do  you  know  in  the  least  what 
Osque  is?),  as  to  be  beyond  your  mark.  Last  summer,  find- 
ing myself  with  money  in  m}'  pocket,  I  roved  between 
Malta,  Athens,  and  Constantinople  for  five  months,  during 
which  there  were  not  five  tedious  minutes.  I  saw  the  Sul- 
tan in  varnished  boots  and  a  black  frock  coat,  afterward, 
covered  with  diamonds,  in  the  procession  of  Bairam ;  on 
which  occasion  a  very  handsome  dame,  on  whose  slipper 
I  trod  inadvertently,  gave  me  a  tremendous  blow  with 
her  fist,  calling  me  a  giaour,  and  this  was  my  sole  asso- 
ciation with  Turkish  beauties.  At  Athens  and  in  Asia 
I  saw  the  finest  monuments  in  the  world,  and  the  love- 
liest landscapes.  The  drawback  consisted  in  fleas,  and 
gnats  the  size  of  larks.  With  all  this  I  have  grown  very 
old.  My  firman  gives  me  turtle-dove  hair,  which  is  a 
pretty  Oriental  metaphor  for  expressing  an  ugly  truth. 
Imagine  3-our  friend  quite  gray  !     Your  claim  to  rival  Ionic 


LETTERS  TO   ANONYMA  155 

and  Corinthian  capitals  in  my  heart,  made  me  laugh.  In 
the  first  place,  I  like  only  the  Doric,  and  there  are  no 
capitals,  not  even  those  of  the  Parthenon,  which  are  worth 
to  me  the  memory  of  a  friendship. 

Paris,  May,  1842.  —  If  I  must  be  frank,  and  you  know 
that  I  cannot  correct  myself  of  this  defect,  I  will  confess 
that  you  struck  me  as  much  improved  physically,  not  at 
all  so  morally  ;  that  you  have  a  very  fine  complexion,  and 
beautiful  hair  which  I  looked  at  more  than  your  cap, 
which  probably  was  worthy  of  admiration,  as  you  seem 
to  be  provoked  that  I  did  not  appreciate  it ;  but  I  have 
never  been  able  to  distinguish  lace  from  calico.  You 
have  still  the  figure  of  a  sylph,  and  though  rather  blasi 
as  to  black  eyes,  I  never  saw  finer  ones  at  Constantinople 
nor  at  Smyrna. 

Now  for  the  reverse  of  the  medal.     You  have   continued 
a  child  in  many  things,  and  have  acquired  into  the  bargain 
a  nice  little  dash  of  selfishness    and   Irypocrisy,  which   may 
be  serviceable,  only  it  is  nothing  of  which  one  need  boast. 
You  do  not  know  how  to  conceal    your  first   impulses,  but 
think  to  make  amends  by  a  host  of  puerile  evasions.     What 
do   you    gain    by    it?       Remember    Jonathan    Swift's    fine 
maxim  :     A   lie   is  too  good   a  thing   to    be   wasted 
This  magnanimous  idea  of  being  hard  to  yourself,  will,  as- 
suredly, lead  you  very  far,  and  a  few  years  hence  you  will 
find  yourself  as  happy  as   the   Trappist,  who,  after   having 
perseveringly  scourged  himself  should  one  day  discover  that 
there    is   no  Paradise.     It   is   your   Satanic   pride    that   has4 
hindered  you  from  seeing    me.     You  believe,  at    least,  that 
you  have  pride,  but  it  is  only  a    petty  vanity  well    worthy 
of   a    devotee.     The  fashion  of  the  day  tends  to  sermons  — 
do  you  frequent  them  ?     This  alone  is  lacking  in  you  !     As 
respects  myself,  I  am    not    more   of    a    hypocrite,  in    which 
perhaps  I  am  wrong  :  certain  it  is  that  I  am  not   therefore 
the  better  liked.     Ah  !  great  news  !     The  first  Academician  \ 
out  of  the   forty    who    shall   die   will   be   the   cause   of   my    ) 
paying    thirty-nine  visits.     I    shall    pay  them  as  awkwardly  / 
as  possible,  and  shall   gain   thirty-nine    enemies.     It   would 


V 


< 


156  MERIMEE 

be  tedious  to  explain  to  you  this  fit  of  ambition.  Suffice 
it  that  the  Academy  is  now  my  blue  cashmere.  Be  happy, 
but  remember  this  maxim  :  Never  to  commit  other  follies 
than  those  agreeable  to  you.  Perhaps  you.  prefer  M.  de 
Talleyrand's  apothegm,  that  one  must  guard  against  good 
impulses,  because  they  are  nearly  always  honest. 


Paris,  June,  1842.  —  I  have  received  your  purse,  which 
exhales  a  charmingly  aristocratic  perfume,  and  if  embroid- 
ered by  yourself  does  you  honor ;  in  it  also  I  recognize 
your  recent  taste  for  the  positive.  It  would  have  been 
poetical  to  value  it  at  one  or  two  stars ;  and  I  should  prize 
it  even  more  had  you  deigned  to  add  to  it  some  lines  from 
your  white  hands.  No,  I  will  not  accept  your  pheasants 
which  you  offer  in  a  detestable  way,  saying,  moreover,  dis- 
agreeable things  about  my  Turkish  sweetmeats.  It  is  you 
who  have  the  palate  of  a  giaour  in  not  appreciating  the 
food  of  houris.  Your  conscience,  I  am  sure,  is  often  less 
lenient  than  I,  whom  you  accuse  of  hardness  and  indiffer- 
ence. The  hypocrisy  that  you  now  cleverly  practice,  merely 
as  a  game,  will,  in  the  end,  play  you  a  trick  —  that  of  be- 
coming a  reality.  As  to  coquetry,  the  inseparable  companion 
of  the  deplorable  vice  that  you  affect,  you  have  long  been 
duly  convicted  of  it,  and  it  became  you  when  tempered  by 
frankness,  by  heart  and  imagination.  Is  it  your  friendship 
that  you  designate  as  an  essence?  a  word  I  like.  Since 
all  that  you  wish  for  comes  to  pass,  I  humbly  pray  you  to 
intercede  with  Destiny  that  I  may  be  an  Academician  ;  but 
the  plague  must  supervene  among  these  gentlemen  to  favor 
my  chances,  to  improve  which  I  must  also  borrow  a  little 
of  your  talent  for  hypocrisy.  I  am  too  old  to  reform,  and 
in  making  the  effort  I  should  perhaps  become  even  worse 
than  I  am.  Formerly  I  had  no  high  opinion  of  my  pre- 
cious self,  but  my  self-esteem  has  increased,  simply  because 
the  world  has  degenerated.  I  pass  my  evenings  in  re-read- 
ing my  books  which  are  being  republished,  and  find  myself 
very  immoral  and  sometimes  stupid.  The  question  now  is 
to  diminish  the  immorality  and  stupidity  with  the  least 
trouble ;  but  at  the  cost  of  blue  devils  to  myself. 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  157 

Chalon-sur-Saone,  June,  1842. —  Thanks  for  your  pray- 
ers, if  they  are  not  a  mere  rhetorical  figure.  I  am  aware 
of  your  devoutness,  which  is  now  the  fashion,  like  blue 
cashmeres.  Our  French  devotion  displeases  me,  being  a 
species  of  shallow  philosophy  proceeding  from  the  head 
and  not  the  heart.  When  you  have  seen  the  Italians  you 
will  agree  with  me  that  their  devotion  is  alone  genuine :  v 
only  one  cannot  have  it  at  will,  and  one  must  be  born  be- 
yond the  Alps  or  Pyrenees  to  possess  such  faith.  You 
cannot  imagine  the  disgust  with  which  our  present  society 
inspires  me,  and  one  would  say  that  it  had  sought  by 
every  possible  combination  to  augment  the  mass  of  ennui 
apparently  necessary  in  the  order  of  the  world  ;  while  in 
Italy  everything  tends  to  render  existence  easy  and  en- 
durable. 

Avignon,  July,  1842. —  Since  you  assume  this  tone  ma 
foi,  I  yield.  Give  me  brown  bread,  which  is  better  than 
none  at  all,  only  permit  me  to  say  that  it  is  brown,  and 
write  to  me  again.  You  see  that  I  am  humble  and  sub- 
missive. The  figure  of  rhetoric  of  which  you  believe  your- 
self to  be  the  inventor  has  been  long  in  use,  and  might  be 
clothed  with  an  uncouth  Greek  name,  but  in  French  it  is 
known  under  the  less  lofty  term  of  lying.  Make  use  of  it 
with  me  as  little  as  possible,  and  do  not  lavish  it  on 
others :  it  must  be  kept  for  great  occasions.  Do  not  seek 
to  find  the  world  foolish  and  ridiculous ;  it  is  only  too 
much  so  in  reality.  It  is  better  to  cherish  illusions,  and  I 
hold  several  which  are  perhaps  rather  transparent,  but  I 
exert  myself  to  retain  them.  I  am  sorry  that  you  read 
Homer  in  Pope,  and  recommend  as  preferable  Dugas-Mont- 
bel's  translation,  which  is  the  only  readable  one.  If  you 
had  the  courage  to  brave  ridicule  and  the  time  to  spare, 
you  would  read  Planche's  (<  Greek  Grammar w  a  month  to 
make  you  sleep,  which  would  not  fail  of  this  effect ;  at 
the  end  of  two  months  you  would  amuse  yourself  by  com- 
paring M.  Montbel's  translation  with  the  Greek ;  and  two 
months  afterward  you  would  easily  perceive  from  the  am- 
biguity of  phrase,  that  the  Greek  has  a  meaning  other 
than  that  given    by  the   translator.     At  the   end   of   a   year 


158  MERIMEE 

you  would  read  Homer  as  you  do  a  melody  and  the  ac- 
companiment ;  the  melody  being  the  Greek,  the  accompani- 
ment the  translation.  It  is  possible  that  this  would  incite 
the  wish  to  study  Greek  in  earnest ;  but  such  assiduity  is 
also  to  presuppose  you  with  neither  dresses  to  occupy  you, 
nor  people  to  whom  they  may  be  displayed.  Everything 
in  Homer  is  remarkable.  His  epithets,  so  seemingly 
strange  in  French,  are  singularly  appropriate.  I  remember 
that  he  calls  the  sea  "purple,*  and  I  never  understood  its 
application  until  last  year.  I  was  in  a  little  caique  on  the 
Gulf  of  I^epanto,  going  to  Delphi.  The  sun  was  setting, 
and  as  it  disappeared  the  sea  wore  for  ten  minutes  a  mag- 
nificent tint  of  dark  violet  —  but  this  requires  the  air,  the 
sea,  the  sun  of  Greece.  I  hope  that  you  will  never  become 
sufficiently  an  artist  to  discover  that  Homer  was  a  great 
painter.  I  hope  that  you  find  me  this  time  passably  re- 
signed and  decorous,  Signora  Fornarina! 

Paris,  August,  1842. — I  congratulate  you  on  your  Greek 
studies,  and  to  begin  with  something  that  may  interest  you 
will  tell  you  the  word  by  which  in  Greek  persons  possess- 
ing like  yourself  hair  of  which  they  are  justly  proud  are 
described  :  efpbkamos.  Ef,  much  ;  plokamos,  curl.  Homer, 
somewhere  says :  — 

^Nimfi  efplokatnouca  Calypso?* 
(Curly-tressed  nymph  Calypso.) 

I  am  sorry  that  you  should  set  out  so  late  in  the  season 
for  Italy,  which  you  will  see  only  through  atrocious  rains 
that  obscure  half  the  charm  of  the  loveliest  mountains  in 
the  world,  and  you  will  be  obliged  to  accept  on  faith  my 
eulogies  on  the  exquisite  skies  of  Naples.  Moreover,  you 
will  have  no  good  fruit,  but  in  compensation,  becaficos,  so 
called  because  they  live  on  grapes. 

While  packing  my  trunk  at  Avignon,  two  venerable  figures 
entered,  announcing  themselves  as  members  of  the  Munici- 
pal Council.  I  supposed  them  emissaries  from  some  church, 
when  they  informed  me  with  much  pomposity  and  prolixity 
that  they  wished  to  commend  to  my  loyalty  and  virtue  a 
lady  about  to  travel  with  me.  I  replied  very  crossly  that 
I  should    be  very  loyal    and  virtuous    but    that   I    detested 


LETTERS  TO   ANONYM  A  159 

traveling  with  women,  whose  presence  precluded  smoking. 
The  mail  coach  arrived,  within  which  I  found  a  large, 
handsome  woman,  simply  and  coquettishly  attired,  who  de- 
clared herself  to  be  always  very  ill  in  a  carriage,  and  des- 
paired of  reaching  Paris  alive.  Our  tite-h-tHe  began,  and  I 
was  as  polite  and  amiable  as  I  find  it  possible  to  be  while 
remaining  in  a  cramped  position.  My  companion  talked 
well,  without  any  Marseillaise  accent,  was  an  ardent  Bona- 
partist,  very  enthusiastic,  believed  in  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  not  too  much  in  the  Catechism,  and  saw  things  gen- 
erally en  beau;  nevertheless,  I  was  conscious  that  she  felt 
a  certain  fear  of  me.  We  were  some  fifty  odd  hours  alone ; 
but  though  we  chatted  immensely  I  found  it  impossible  to 
come  to  any  conclusion  respecting  my  neighbor  except  that 
she  was  married,  and  a  person  of  good  society.  On  arriv- 
ing at  Paris  she  precipitated  herself  into  the  arms  of  an 
excessively  ugly  man,  no  doubt  her  father,  and  raising  my 
hat  I  was  about  entering  a  cab,  when  my  unknown,  leaving 
the  gentleman,  said  in  an  agitated  voice :  (<  Monsieur,  I  am 
much  moved  by  the  respectful  consideration  shown  me  by 
you,  for  which  I  cannot  sufficiently  express  my  gratitude ; 
and  I  shall  never  forget  my  good  fortune  in  traveling  with 
so  illustrious  a  man."  And  this  word  explains  the  Munici- 
pal Councilors,  and  the  terror  of  the  lady.  They  had 
evidently  seen  my  name  on  the  register,  and  the  lady,  hav- 
ing read  my  books,  expected  to  be  swallowed  alive,  which 
opinion  no  doubt  is  shared  by  many  of  my  feminine  readers. 
This  incident  put  me  into  a  bad  humor  for  two  days.  It  is 
a  singular  thing,  that  having  at  one  period  of  my  life  be- 
come a  very  worthless  fellow,  I  lived  during  two  years  on 
my  former  good  reputation  ;  and  since  resuming  my  very 
moral  life,  I  now  am  considered  a  scamp.  ...  If  you 
are  surprised  that  the  goddesses  are  blondes,  you  will  be 
still  more  astonished  at  Naples  at  seeing  statues  whose  hair 
is  painted  red.  It  seems  that  beautiful  women  formerly 
used  red,  even  gold  powder ;  but  on  the  other  hand  you 
will  see  in  the  pictures  of  the  Studii,  a  number  of  goddesses 
with  black  hair,  descriptive  of  which  there  is  in  Greek  a 
terrible  word  :  melankhetis :  the  y/J-  being  a  diabolical  aspi- 
rate. 


160  MERIMEE 

It  distresses  me  to  perceive  your  rapid  progress  in  Satan- 
ism, that  you  are  becoming  ironical,  sarcastic,  and  even 
diabolical,  all  which  words  are  drawn  from  the  Greek,  the 
meaning  of  the  last  being  calumniator.  You  jest  at  my 
finest  qualities,  and  even  your  praise  is  impaired  by  a  reti- 
cence and  cautiousness  that  deprive  the  commendation  of 
all  merit.  As  for  good  company,  I  have  often  found  it 
mortally  tedious.  I  am  vain  enough  to  believe  myself  not 
out  of  place  with  unpretending  persons  whom  I  have  long 
known,  and  at  a  Spanish  inn  with  muleteers  and  Andalusian 
peasant  women.  Write  that  in  my  funeral  oration  and  you 
will  have  told  the  truth.  And  if  I  speak  of  this,  it  is  that 
I  believe  the  time  approaches  for  you  to  prepare  it ;  for  I 
suffer  excessively  from  confused  sight,  spasms,  and  frightful 
headaches,  which  would  indicate  some  serious  affection  of 
the  brain,  and  I  may  soon  become,  as  Homer  says,  a  guest 
of  gloomy  Proserpine.  I  should  be  delighted  were  it  to 
\  sadden  you  for  a  fortnight. 

I  believe  the  ancients  to  have  been  more  amusing  than 
ourselves  :  they  had  not  such  paltry  aims,  were  not  pre- 
occupied by  such  inanities.  Julius  Csesar  at  fifty-three  was 
guilty  of  follies  for  Cleopatra,  and  forgot  all  for  her,  nearly 
to  the  point  of  drowning  himself  actually  and  figuratively. 
What  statesman  of  our  generation  is  not  callous,  completely 
insensible  at  the  age  at  which  he  can  aspire  to  be  a 
Deputy  ? 

The  little  that  I  have  seen  of  Greece  has  enlarged  my 
comprehension  of  Homer.  Throughout  the  <(  Odyssey  *  one 
sees  the  incredible  love  of  the  Greeks  for  their  own  coun- 
try. To  dwell  in  a  foreign  land  is  to  them  the  greatest  of 
misfortunes ;  but  to  die  in  exile  is  to  them  beyond  all  im- 
agination frightful.  You  jest  at  my  gastronomy;  do  you 
appreciate  the  entrails  so  greedily  devoured  by  ancient 
heroes?  They  are  still  eaten,  and  are  truly  delicious,  being 
composed  of  spiced  and  appetizing  little  crusts  skewered  by 
^  perfumed  mastic  wood,  which  at  once  explains  why  the 
priests  reserved  for  themselves  this  tempting  morsel  of  the 
victims. 

You  ask  if  there  are  any  Greek  novels  —  there  are  many, 
but   very  tedious   in   my  opinion.      <(  Daphnis   and   Chloe.M 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  161 

translated  by  Courier  is  pretentionsly  ?iaif  and  not  over  ex- 
emplary. An  admirable  novel,  but  very  immoral,  is  <(  I/Ane 
de  Lucius ;  *  one  does  not  boast,  however,  of  reading  it 
though  a  masterpiece.  The  worst  of  the  Greeks  is,  that 
their  ideas  of  morality  and  decency  differ  so  essentially 
from  our  own.  If  you  have  the  courage  to  attempt  history 
you  will  be  charmed  with  Herodotus,  who  enchants  me. 
Begin  with  <( Anabasis  or  the  Retreat  of  the  Ten  Thou- 
sand ;  *  take  a  map  of  Asia  and  follow  these  ten  thousand 
rascals  in  their  journey  ;  it  is  Froissard  gigantesque.  Lu- 
cian  is  the  Greek  with  the  most  wit,  or  rather  our  wit : 
but  he  is  a  libertine  and  I  dare  not  commend  him. 

I  gratefully  appreciate  your  condecension  at  the  opera  in 
permitting  me  to  look  at  your  face  during  two  hours,  and 
I  owe  it  to  truth  to  say  that  I  admired  it  greatly,  as  also 
your  hair,  which  I  had  never  seen  so  near.  As  to  your 
assertion  of  having  refused  nothing  that  I  have  asked  of 
you,  several  millions  of  years  in  purgatory  will  be  your 
penance  for  this  fine  falsehood.  I  do  not  remember  com- 
paring you  to  Cerberus,  but  you  certainly  bear  him  a  re- 
semblance, not  only  in  your  love  for  cakes,  but  in  possessing 
three  heads,  or  rather  brains  —  one  of  a  frightful  coquette, 
the  other  of  an  old  diplomatist ;  the  third  I  will  not  name, 
as  to-day  I  wish  to  tell  you  nothing  agreeable.  I  have  re- 
turned from  seeing  <(  Fredegonde,  *  which  was  excessively 
tedious,  notwithstanding  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  who  has  very 
handsome  black  eyes  without  white,  as  it  is  said  has  the 
devil.  You  tell  me  amiably  that  you  do  not  wish  to  see 
me  for  fear  of  becoming  wearied  of  me.  If  I  am  not  mis- 
taken, we  have  met  six  or  seven  times  in  six  years,  and 
adding  up  the  minutes,  we  may  have  passed  three  or  four 
hours  together,  the  half  of  which  was  in  silence.  Admit  that 
it  is  little  flattering  to  my  self-love  to  be  treated  thus  after 
*an  intimacy  of  six  years,  and  in  face  of  the  proofs  of  re- 
gard that  you  have  vouchsafed  me  ;  moreover,  pardon  the 
word,  I  think  it  somewhat  silly.  If  you  believe  yourself  to 
be  doing  wrong  in  meeting  me,  do  you  commit  no  fault 
in  writing  to  me  ?  As  I  am  not  well  versed  in  your  cate- 
chism, this  remains  a  perplexing  question.  I  speak  harshly 
perhaps,  but  you  wound  me,  and   I    cannot   imitate  you  in 


162  MERIMEE 

ridding  myself  of  a  weight  on  the  heart  by  eating  cakes. 
But  I  will  ask  nothing  more  of  you, —  for  you  become 
every  day  more  imperious,  and  develop  a  scandalous  refine- 
ment in  coquetry.  You  are  careful  to  recall  your  eyes  to 
me,  which  I  have  not  forgotten  though  so  seldom  seen. 
You  should  see  me  were  it  only  to  escape  from  the  atmos- 
phere of  flattery  surrounding  you.  When  I  met  you  at 
the  house  of  our  friend,  your  extreme  elegance  greatly  sur- 
prised me,  and  the  quantity  of  cakes  necessary  to  restore 
you  after  the  fatigue  of  the  opera  astonished  me  still  more ; 
not  that  I  do  not  place  coquetry  and  gourmandise  in  the 
first  rank  of  your  faults,  but  I  thought  the  form  of  these 
defects  a  moral  one ;  believing  that  you  bestowed  little 
thought  on  your  toilette,  that  you  were  a  woman  who  eat 
merely  through  abstraction,  and  preferred  to  make  an  im- 
pression on  men  by  your  eyes  and  clever  sayings  rather 
than  by  your  dresses.     See  how  deceived  I  have  been. 

December,  1842. —  Formerly  the  absurdities  of  others 
amused  me,  but  now  I  prefer  to  conceal  them  from  the 
world.  I  have  also  become  more  humane,  and  when  wit- 
nessing lately  the  bull-fights  at  Madrid,  the  pleasurable  sen- 
sations of  ten  years  previous  were  not  renewed.  I  have  a 
horror  of  all  suffering,  and  for  some  time  past  have  believed 
in  moral  suffering.  In  short,  I  strive  as  much  as  possible 
to  forget  my  mk  ;  and  this  in  a.  few  words  is  a  list  of  my 
perfections.  No,  I  have  no  Vanagloria.  I  see  things  too 
practically,  perhaps,  having  been  escarmentado  through  re- 
garding them  too  poetically.  I  have  passed  my  life  in 
being  praised  for  qualities  that  I  do  not  possess,  and  cal- 
umniated for  defects  that  are  not  mine. 

Your  letter  does  not  surprise  me  in  the  least  :  for  I  now 
know  you  well  enough  to  be  certain  that  when  a  good 
thought  strikes  you  it  is  at  once  repented  of,  and  you  strive 
to  have  it  speedily  forgotten  —  but  this  justice  I  will  do 
you  :  that  you  understand  admirably  how  to  gild  the  most 
bitter  pill.  You  compare  me  to  the  devil.  I  was  quite 
conscious  on  Tuesday  of  not  thinking  enough  about  my  old 
books  and  too  much  of  your  gloves  and  bottines.  But  in 
spite  of  all  that  you   say   with   such   diabolical   coquetry,  I 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  163 

cannot  believe  that  you  have  the  slightest  fear  of  renewing 
at  the  Museum  our  former  follies.  It  pleases  you  to  have 
some  vague  mark  for  your  coquetry,  and  you  find  it  in  me ; 
but  you  do  not  wish  it  to  be  too  near,  for  should  you  miss 
the  target  your  vanity  would  suffer,  and  perhaps  in  ap- 
proaching it  closely  you  would  discover  it  to  be  not  worth 
your  shaft.     Have  I  read  you  aright? 

I  suffer  terribly  and  cough  incessantly,  nevertheless  I  shall 
go  to  hear  Rachel  declaim  tirades  from  <(  Phedre  *  before 
several  great  men,  and  she  will  believe  my  cough  to  be  a 
cabal  against  her.  This  evening  I  heard  Madame  Persiani 
sing,  and  she  has  reconciled  me  to  human  nature  ;  were  I 
King  Saul  I  should  choose  her  in  place  of  David. 

I  am  told  that  M.  de  Pongerville,  the  Academician,  is 
about  to  die,  which  throws  me  into  despair,  for  I  shall  not 
be  chosen  to  replace  him,  and  I  wish  he  could  wait  until 
my  time  shall  arrive.  He  has  translated  into  verse  a  Latin 
named  Lucretius,  who  died  at  the  age  of  forty-three  from 
having  taken  a  philtre  to  make  himself  beloved,  previous 
to  which  he  wrote  a  great  poem,  atheistic,  impious,  abomi- 
nable, on  <(The  Nature  of  Things.*  You  appear  to  me  to 
grow  more  handsome,  which  I  had  thought  impossible ;  but 
one  always  improves  in  beauty  when  in  good  health ;  and 
that  comes  with  a  hard  heart  and  good  digestion. 

December,  1842. —  I  have  been  exceedingly  ill  with  my 
throat,  and  all  the  fires  of  hell  in  my  breast,  and  have 
passed  several  days  in  bed  meditating  on  the  strangeness  of 
this  world.  I  find  myself  on  the  declivity  of  a  mountain 
whose  summit,  with  much  fatigue  and  little  pleasure,  I  have 
hardly  attained,  the  descent  being  so  steep  and  tedious  that 
perhaps  it  would  be  rather  an  advantage  to  fall  into  a  crev- 
ice before  reaching  the  bottom  ;  while  the  only  ray  of  con- 
solation along  the  whole  route  has  been  a  little  distant 
sunshine,  a  few  months  passed  in  Italy,  Spain,  or  in  Greece 
while  forgetting  the  whole  world,  the  present,  and  especially 
the  future.  All  this  is  far  from  gay  :  but  some  one  brings 
me  four  volumes  by  Doctor  Strauss,  (( The  Life  of  Jesus, w 
which  in  Germany  is  called  exegesis,  a  pure  Greek  word 
they  have   found    by    which    to    express    discussion   on   the 


1 64  m£rim£e 

point  of  a  needle,  but  it  is  very  amusing.  I  have  remarked 
that  the  more  closely  a  thing  is  shorn  of  any  useful  con- 
sY       elusion,   the  more  amusing  it  becomes. 

There  are  people  who  buy  furniture  of  a  color  to  suit 
their  taste,  but  for  fear  of  spoiling  it  shroud  it  in  linen 
covers  that  are  only  removed  when  the  furniture  is  worn  out. 
In  all  that  you  do  and  say,  you  substitute  a  factitious  for 
a  true  sentiment  —  this  perhaps  is  decorum.  You  say  in 
your  letter,  (<  I  believe  that  I  have  never  loved  you  so  well 
as  yesterday*  —  you  should  have  added,  <(I  love  you  less 
to-day.  *  I  often  repent  of  being  too  loyal  in  my  r61e  of 
statue.  You  gave  me  your  soul  yesterday  :  I  would  have 
given  you  mine  in  return  but  you  did  not  wish  it.  Always 
the  linen  cover  ! 

Yesterday  on  returning  from  a  dinner  I  discovered  that 
I  knew  by  heart  the  speech  of  Tecmessa  that  you  admired, 
and  being  in  a  somewhat  pensive  mood  I  translated  it  into 
English  verse,  as  I  abhor  French  verse. 


/* 


Paris,  January,  1843. —  I  heartily  forgive  your  jest 
about  the  Academy,  of  which  I  think  less  than  you  be- 
lieve. Should  I  ever  be  an  Academician,  I  shall  not  be 
hard  as  a  rock,  though  perchance  a  little  case-hardened 
and  mummified  ;  but  rather  a  good  fellow  at  heart. 

I  am  reminded  of  an  incident  that  occurred  a  fortnight 
ago  at  a  dinner  given  by  an  Academician  for  the  purpose 
of  presenting  Beranger  to  Mademoiselle  Rachel.  A  number 
of  celebrities  were  assembled.  Rachel  came  late  and  her 
manner  of  entering  displeased  me;  while  the  men  said  so 
many  silly  things  to  her,  and  the  women  did  so  many  on 
seeing  her,  that  I  remained  in  my  corner ;  besides,  it  is  a 
year  since  I  have  spoken  to  her.  After  dinner,  Beranger 
with  his  candor  and  usual  good  sense  told  her  that  she 
was  wrong  to  fritter  away  her  talent  in  salons,  there  being 
for  her  only  one  true  public,  that  of  the  Theatre  Francais. 
Rachel  appeared  to  appreciate  the  advice,  and  to  prove 
that  she  benefited  by  it,  at  once  declaimed  the  first  act  of 
*  Esther. B  Some  one  was  needed  to  give  her  the  cue,  and 
by  her  direction  a  Racine  was  formally  brought  to  me  by 
an    Academician     who     was    officiating    as  cicisbeo;   but   I 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  165 

replied  rudely  that    I  knew    nothing    about  verses  and  that 

there  were  persons  present    who    being   in    that    line  would 

scan  them  much  better.     Hugo  excused  himself  on  account 

of   his  eyes ;    another  for    some  other  reason,  the  master  of 

the    house    being    finally    victimized.     Picture    to    yourself 

Rachel  costumed  in  black,  standing  between   the  piano  and 

tea-table,  with    a    door    behind    her,    assuming    a    theatrical 

pose  and  expression,  the  transformation  being  very  fine  and 

vastly  amusing.     This  lasted   about   two    minutes,  then  she 

began :  — 

«Est-ce  toi,  chere  Elise?* 

The  confidante  in  the  middle  of  his  reply  lets  fall  both 
book  and  spectacles,  ten  minutes  passing  before  he  can  re- 
cover his  page  and  his  e3'es.  The  audience  perceive  that 
Esther  is  getting  into  a  rage.  She  resumes.  The  door 
behind  opens,  a  servant  enters,  who  is  signed  to  withdraw. 
He  hurriedly  retreats  but  does  not  succeed  in  shutting  the 
door,  which  remaining  ajar  swings  to  and  fro,  accompany- 
ing Rachel  with  a  melodious  and  most  comical  creak. 
This  not  ceasing,  Rachel  puts  her  hand  to  her  heart  and 
grows  faint,  but,  like  a  person  accustomed  to  die  on  the 
stage,  giving  one  time  to  come  to  her  assistance.  During 
this  interlude  Hugo  and  M.  Thiers  fall  to  quarreling  on 
the  subject  of  Racine,  Hugo  asserting  that  Racine  had  a 
narrow  mind  {un  petit  esprit)  and  Corneille  a  master  intel- 
lect {un  grand).  "You  say  that,"  replied  Thiers  (< because 
you  are  un  grand  esprit;  you  are  the  Corneille8 — here 
Hugo's  head  assumed  an  air  of  great  modesty — "of  an 
epoch  of  which  Casimir  Delavigne  is  the  Racine."  Mean- 
while the  swoon  passes  off  and  the  act  is  finished,  but 
fiascheggiando.  One  of  the  guests  who  knows  Rachel  well, 
remarked :  <(  How  she  must  have  sworn  this  evening  on 
going  away. *  This  is  my  story ;  do  not  compromise  me 
with  the  Academicians. 

I  deeply  regret  having  exposed  you  through  my  persist- 
ency to  such  a  frightful  drenching.  It  rarely  happens  to 
me  to  sacrifice  others  to  myself,  and  when  it  occurs  I  am 
filled  with  all  possible  remorse.  Happiness  only  gives  me 
strength,  while  it  diminishes  yours.  Wer  besser  liebt?  You 
lausrhed  at  me  and  received  as  a  jest  what  I  said  as  to  the 


V 


1 66  MERIMEE 

wish  to  sleep,  or  rather  the  torpor  that  sometimes  steals 
over  one  when  in  a  state  of  happiness  so  great  as  to  pre- 
clude its  utterance  in  words.  I  observed  yesterday  that 
you  were  under  the  influence  of  this  sleep,  which  is  worth 
many  vigils,  and  I  was  too  content  to  wish  to  disturb  my 
happiness.  It  is  in  exaggerating  facts  by  brooding  on 
them  that  you  have  succeeded  in  making  a  star-chamber 
matter  of  what  you  have  yourself  termed  frivolities  ;  and 
allow  me  to  say,  that  the  very  obstinacy  and  rabid  ferocity 
with  which  you  thwart  me  as  to  these  frivolities  render 
them  more  dear  to  me,  and  endue  them  with  a  fresh  im- 
portance. If  I  must  see  you  only  to  resist  the  most  inno- 
cent temptations,  it  is  the  r&le  of  a  saint  surpassing  my 
strength,  and  the  condition  exacted  by  you  that  I  trans- 
form myself  into  a  statue,  like  the  king  in  the  (<  Arabian 
Nights/*  is  simply  insupportable.  The  only  hypocrisy  of 
which  I  am  capable  is  that  of  concealing  from  those  whom 
I  love  all  the  ill  they  do  me ;  I  might  sustain  the  effort 
for  a  season  ;  but  forever,  no.  As  to  our  walk,  I  am  like 
a  cat  that  continues  to  lick  his  moustache  after  lapping 
milk.  Acknowledge  that  repose,  even  the  kef,  which  is 
superior  to  all  that  is  best  of  this  nature,  is  nothing  in 
comparison  with  the  happiness  "that  is  almost  a  pain.8 
You  claim  to  have  spoiled  me,  but  you  do  not  understand 
the   art ;    your  triumph   is   to   put   me   in    a   fury.     Adieu, 

DEAREST ! 

Paris,  February,  1843. —  Since  seeing  you  I  have  been 
much  in  society,  committing  a  multitude  of  academic  mean- 
nesses which  cost  me  a  painful  effort,  having  lost  the  habit, 
but  doubtless  I  shall  quickly  pick  it  up  again.  To-day  I  saw 
five  illustrious  poets  and  writers  of  prose,  and  had  night 
not  overtaken  me  the  thirty-six  visits  might  possibly  have 
been  achieved  at  a  dash.  The  drollery  of  it  is  the  meeting 
one's  rivals,  several  of  whom  glared  as  if  they  wished  to 
eat  me  alive.  Truth  to  say,  I  am  worn  out  with  this 
odious  drudgery  and  should  be  glad  to  forget  it  all  in  an 
hour  with  you. 

I  have  been  this  evening  to  the  Italians,  where,  thanks 
to  the  claquers,  my  enemy  Madame  Viardot  had    a   success. 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  167 

I  find  that  I  have  omitted  to  attend  the  Opera  House  Ball 
—  where,  alas!  is  the  happy  time  in  which  I  so  enjoyed  it? 
now  it  bores  me  horribly.  Do  I  not  seem  to  you  very  old  ? 
Theodore  Hook  is  dead.  Have  you  read  Bulwer's  <(  Ernest 
Maltra vers,  *  and  (<  Alice, w  which  contain  charming  pictures 
of  old  love  and  young  love  ?  You  may  reflect  with  pride 
on  the  strange  influence  you  have  exercised  over  my  ideas 
and  resolutions ;  you  have  read  my  thought  as  quickly  as 
it  was  conceived — and  yet  yesterday,  on  the  strength  of 
a  Greek  verse,  I  went  to  Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois,  full  of 
hope,  but  fruitlessly.  Do  you  remember  when  we  always 
divined  each  other's  wishes?  The  other  evening  at  the 
opera  your  rainbow  costume  inspired  me  with  various  fan- 
cies, but  you  have  no  need  of  coquetry  with  me.  I  do 
not  love  you  better  as  a  rainbow  than  in  black.  I  have 
long  suspected  something  diabolical  in  you,  but  am  some- 
what reassured  in  thinking  that  I  have  seen  your  feet, 
neither  of  which  is  cloven  ;  nevertheless  it  may  be  that 
beneath  these  bottines  you  have  a  little  claw  concealed.  I 
have  passed  a  wretched  night  of  suffering,  and  as  a  diver- 
sion shall  think  of  your  feet  and  hands. 

I  have  received  the  sad  news  of  the  death  by  paralysis 
of  poor  Sharp,*  one  of  my  most  intimate  friends  whom  I 
was  about  to  visit  in  London.  I  cannot  yet  accustom  my- 
self to  the  thought  of  seeing  him  no  more. 

My  fate  will  be  decided  at  the  Academy  on  the  four- 
teenth, which  corresponds  with  the  ides  of  March,  the  day 
of  the  death  of  my  hero,  Caesar.  Ominous,  is  it  not? 
Reason  encourages  me  to  hope,  but  a  depressing  intuition 
whispers  of  failure.  Meanwhile  I  conscientiously  pay  my 
visits.  I  find  people  very  polite,  quite  accustomed  to  their 
parts  and  enacting  them  very  much  in  earnest,  while  I  strive 
to  play  mine  with  equal  gravity.,  though  I  find  it  difficult. 
Does  it  not  strike  you  as  comical  to  say  to  a  man,  <(  Mon- 
sieur, I  believe  myself  to  be  one  of  the  forty  cleverest  men 
of  France;  I  am  worthy  of  you,"  and  similar  facetiae.  This 
must,  moreover,  be  translated  into  civil  and  fitting  phrase 
to  suit  the  various  persons  ;  an  occupation  to  weary  me 
beyond  endurance  if  prolonged.     I  envy  the  fate  of   women 

*  Mr.  Sutton  Sharp,  a  very  distinguished  English  barrister. 


1 66  MERIMEE 

wish  to  sleep,  or  rather  the  torpor  that  sometimes  steals 
over  one  when  in  a  state  of  happiness  so  great  as  to  pre- 
clude its  utterance  in  words.  I  observed  yesterday  that 
you  were  under  the  influence  of  this  sleep,  which  is  worth 
many  vigils,  and  I  was  too  content  to  wish  to  disturb  my 
happiness.  It  is  in  exaggerating  facts  by  brooding  on 
them  that  you  have  succeeded  in  making  a  star-chamber 
matter  of  what  you  have  yourself  termed  frivolities  ;  and 
allow  me  to  say,  that  the  very  obstinacy  and  rabid  ferocity 
with  which  you  thwart  me  as  to  these  frivolities  render 
them  more  dear  to  me,  and  endue  them  with  a  fresh  im- 
portance. If  I  must  see  you  only  to  resist  the  most  inno- 
cent temptations,  it  is  the  r61e  of  a  saint  surpassing  my 
strength,  and  the  condition  exacted  by  you  that  I  trans- 
form myself  into  a  statue,  like  the  king  in  the  <(  Arabian 
Nights,"  is  simply  insupportable.  The  only  hypocrisy  of 
which  I  am  capable  is  that  of  concealing  from  those  whom 
I  love  all  the  ill  they  do  me ;  I  might  sustain  the  effort 
for  a  season  ;  but  forever,  no.  As  to  our  walk,  I  am  like 
a  cat  that  continues  to  lick  his  moustache  after  lapping 
milk.  Acknowledge  that  repose,  even  the  kef,  which  is 
superior  to  all  that  is  best  of  this  nature,  is  nothing  in 
comparison  with  the  happiness  <(  that  is  almost  a  pain.  * 
You  claim  to  have  spoiled  me,  but  you  do  not  understand 
the  art ;  your  triumph  is  to  put  me  in  a  fury.  Adieu, 
dearest  ! 

Paris,  February,  1843. —  Since  seeing  you  I  have  been 
much  in  society,  committing  a  multitude  of  academic  mean- 
nesses which  cost  me  a  painful  effort,  having  lost  the  habit, 
but  doubtless  I  shall  quickly  pick  it  up  again.  To-day  I  saw 
five  illustrious  poets  and  writers  of  prose,  and  had  night 
not  overtaken  me  the  thirty-six  visits  might  possibly  have 
been  achieved  at  a  dash.  The  drollery  of  it  is  the  meeting 
one's  rivals,  several  of  whom  glared  as  if  they  wished  to 
eat  me  alive.  Truth  to  say,  I  am  worn  out  with  this 
odious  drudgery  and  should  be  glad  to  forget  it  all  in  an 
hour  with  you. 

I  have  been  this  evening  to  the  Italians,  where,  thanks 
to  the  claquers,  my  enemy  Madame  Viardot  had    a   success. 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  167 

I  find  that  I  have  omitted  to  attend  the  Opera  House  Ball 
—  where,  alas!  is  the  happy  time  in  which  I  so  enjoyed  it? 
now  it  bores  me  horribly.  Do  I  not  seem  to  you  very  old  ? 
Theodore  Hook  is  dead.  Have  you  read  Bulwer's  <(  Ernest 
Maltra vers, *  and  "Alice,"  which  contain  charming  pictures 
of  old  love  and  young  love  ?  You  may  reflect  with  pride 
on  the  strange  influence  you  have  exercised  over  my  ideas 
and  resolutions ;  you  have  read  my  thought  as  quickly  as 
it  was  conceived — and  yet  yesterday,  on  the  strength  of 
a  Greek  verse,  I  went  to  Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois,  full  of 
hope,  but  fruitlessly.  Do  you  remember  when  we  always 
divined  each  other's  wishes?  The  other  evening  at  the 
opera  your  rainbow  costume  inspired  me  with  various  fan- 
cies, but  you  have  no  need  of  coquetry  with  me.  I  do 
not  love  you  better  as  a  rainbow  than  in  black.  I  have 
long  suspected  something  diabolical  in  you,  but  am  some- 
what reassured  in  thinking  that  I  have  seen  your  feet, 
neither  of  which  is  cloven  ;  nevertheless  it  may  be  that 
beneath  these  bottines  you  have  a  little  claw  concealed.  I 
have  passed  a  wretched  night  of  suffering,  and  as  a  diver- 
sion shall  think  of  your  feet  and  hands. 

I  have  received  the  sad  news  of  the  death  by  paralysis 
of  poor  Sharp,*  one  of  my  most  intimate  friends  whom  I 
was  about  to  visit  in  London.  I  cannot  yet  accustom  my- 
self to  the  thought  of  seeing  him  no  more. 

My  fate  will  be  decided  at  the  Academy  on  the  four- 
teenth, which  corresponds  with  the  ides  of  March,  the  day 
of  the  death  of  my  hero,  Caesar.  Ominous,  is  it  not? 
Reason  encourages  me  to  hope,  but  a  depressing  intuition 
whispers  of  failure.  Meanwhile  I  conscientiously  pay  my 
visits.  I  find  people  very  polite,  quite  accustomed  to  their 
parts  and  enacting  them  very  much  in  earnest,  while  I  strive 
to  play  mine  with  equal  gravity,  though  I  find  it  difficult. 
Does  it  not  strike  you  as  comical  to  say  to  a  man,  <(  Mon- 
sieur, I  believe  myself  to  be  one  of  the  forty  cleverest  men 
of  France;  I  am  worthy  of  you,"  and  similar  facetiae.  This 
must,  moreover,  be  translated  into  civil  and  fitting  phrase 
to  suit  the  various  persons ;  an  occupation  to  weary  me 
beyond  endurance  if  prolonged.     I  envy  the  fate  of   women 

*  Mr.  Sutton  Sharp,  a  very  distinguished  English  barrister. 


i7o  MERIMEE 

I  am  a  Representative,  and  you  know  me  well  enough  to 
judge  how  odious  to  me  is  the  role  of  a  public  man. 
While  I  sketched,  a  crowd  gathered  about  me,  emulating 
each  other  in  conjectures  as  to  the  nature  of  my  occupation. 
To  console  me  there  was  an  admirable  church  which  owes 
to  me  its  escape  from  demolition,  and  which  I  first  saw 
soon  after  meeting  you  ;  and  I  asked  myself  to-day  if  we 
were  more  mad  then  than  now.  There  was  also  a  natural 
terrace  that  a  poet  might  well  call  a  precipice,  where  I 
philosophized  on  the  MB,  on  Providence,  in  the  hypothesis  that 
it  exists  ;  and  finished  with  the  despairing  thought  that  you 
are  far  away.  I  send  you  an  owl's  feather  that  I  found 
in  the  abbatical  church,  having  read  in  some  book  of  magic 
that  when  a  woman  places  it  beneath  her  pillow  she  dreams 
of  her  friend. 

Saint-Lupicin,  August,  1843,  600  metres  above  the  level 
of  the  sea  —  in  the  midst  of  an  ocean  of  very  active  and  fam- 
ished fleas.  —  This  village  is  in  the  Jura  Mountains,  is  ugly 
to  the  last  degree,  filthy,  and  populous  with  fleas.  I  shall 
pass  a  night  like  those  at  Kphesus,  but  at  my  awaking, 
unfortunately,  I  shall  find  neither  laurels  nor  Greek  ruins. 
There  are  immense  quantities  of  colossal  flowers,  a  singu- 
larly keen  and  pure  air,  and  the  human  voice  can  be  heard 
at  a  league's  distance.  I  have  had  leaden  skies,  a  broken 
wheel,  and  a  poulticed  eye,  all  tolerably  remedied :  but  I 
cannot  become  habituated  to  solitude  —  solitude  in  motion, 
than  which  there  is  nothing  more  sad  ;  and  were  I  in 
prison,  I  should  be  more  at  my  ease  than  thus  roving  alone 
about  the  country. 

Avignon,  1843. —  The  district  that  I  am  now  traversing 
is  very  fine,  but  the  natives  are  stupid  beyond  measure. 
No  one  opens  his  mouth  but  to  praise  the  country,  and 
this  from  the  priest  to  the  porter.  There  is  no  appearance 
of  that  tact  constituting  the  gentleman,  which  I  found 
among  the  common  people  of  Spain  ;  but  with  that  excep- 
tion it  is  impossible  to  find  a  country  more  nearly  resem- 
bling Spain.  There  is  the  same  aspect  of  town  and  land- 
scape ;    the  workmen  lie  in  the  shade  and  drop  their  cloaks 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  171 

with  a  tragic  air  that  is  Andalusian ;  the  odor  of  garlic  and 
oil  is  mingled  with  that  of  oranges  and  jasmine ;  the  streets 
are  shaded  with  linen  during  the  day,  and  the  women  have 
small,  well-shod  feet  ;  there  is  nothing,  even  to  the  patois, 
that  has  not  a  flavor  of  Spain.  A  still  closer  relation  exists 
in  its  abundance  of  gnats,  fleas,  and  other  insects,  and  I 
have  yet  two  months  of  this  life  to  pass  before  seeing  hu- 
man beings  ! 

I  have  sent  my  sketches  to  Paris ;  besides,  a  Roman 
capital  would  not  interest  you, —  devils,  dragons,  and  saints 
forming  the  decoration.  The  devils  of  the  first  centuries  of 
Christianity  are  not  very  seductive,  and  I  am  sure  that 
you  would  not  value  dragons  and  saints.  I  have  sketched 
a  Macon  costume  for  you,  the  only  graceful  one  I  have 
seen,  though  the  sash  is  so  drolly  placed  as  to  afford  no 
advantage  in  a  slender  over  a  thick  waist, —  the  dress  would 
seem  to  require  a  special  physical  organization.  The  cheap- 
ness of  cotton  stuffs  and  the  facility  of  communication  with 
Paris  have  wrought  the  disappearance  of  our  national  cos- 
tumes. Avignon  is  filled  with  churches  and  palaces,  all 
provided  with  battlemented  and  machicolated  towers.  The 
palace  of  the  Pope  is  a  model  of  a  fortification  for  the 
Middle  Ages,  which  proves  what  amiable  security  reigned 
toward  the  fourteenth  century.  There  are  subterranean 
chambers  used  by  the  Inquisition,  with  the  remains  of  an 
infernal  complicated  machine,  and  furnaces  for  heating  the 
irons  with  which  heretics  were  tortured.  The  natives  are 
as  proud  of  their  Inquisition  as  the  English  of  their  Magna 
Charta.  <(  We  also,"  say  they,  <(have  had  auto-da-fS,  and » 
the  Spaniards  had  none  until  after  us  ! w 

Toulon,  October. —  It  is  impossible  to  find  a  place  dirtier 
or  prettier  than  Marseilles  ;  and  these  words  are  especially 
appropriate  to  its  women.  They  have  expressive  counte- 
nances, fine  black  eyes,  beautiful  teeth,  very  small  feet,  and 
imperceptible  ankles  ;  but  the  pretty  feet  are  shod  in  thick, 
cinnamon-colored  stockings  the  color  of  Marseilles  mud,  and 
darned  with  cotton  of  twenty  different  tints.  Their  dresses 
are  badly  made,  untidy  and  covered  with  stains,  while  their 
fine  hair  owes  its  lustre  mainly   to   candle-grease.      Add   to 


172  MERIMEE 

this  an  atmosphere  redolent  of  garlic  mixed  with  fumes  of 
rancid  oil,  and  you  have  a  picture  of  the  Marseilles 
beauty.  What  a  pity  that  nothing  can  be  perfect  in  this 
world  !  Yet,  in  spite  of  all,  they  are  ravishing  —  a  positive 
triumph. 

Your  letter  is  admirably  diplomatic ;  you  practice  the 
axiom  that  language  has  been  given  to  man  to  conceal  his 
thought :  and  yet  I  see  between  the  lines  the  tenderest 
things  in  the  world.  I  think  unceasingly  of  my  return  to 
Paris,  and  my  imagination  paints  I  know  not  how  many 
delicious  moments  passed  at  your  side. 

Paris,  1843. —  I  weary  for  you,  to  make  use  of  an 
ellipsis  that  you  affect.  I  did  not  clearly  realize  that  we 
were  about  to  part  for  so  long  a  time.  Shall  we  really  see 
each  other  no  more?  We  separated  without  a  word,  almost 
without  a  look.  I  was  sensible  of  a  calm  happiness  not 
usual  with  me,  and  for  a  few  moments  I  seemed  to  wish 
for  nothing  more.  How  ingenious  you  are  in  depriving 
others  and  yourself  of  an  enchantment  that  comes  so  near ! 
Doubtless  I  am  wrong  to  use  the  word  enchantment,  as 
marmots  probably  never  experience  the  sensation,  and  you 
were  one  of  those  pretty  animals  before  Brahma  transferred 
your  soul  to  the  body  of  a  woman.  But  notwithstanding 
my  ill-humor  I  love  better  to  see  you  with  your  grand  air 
of  indifference  than  not  at  all.  The  affection  you  bear  me 
is  merely  an  emanation  of  the  intellect.  You  are  all  mind, 
one  of  those  chilly  women  of  the  North  who  live  only 
through  the  head.  Our  characters  are  as  opposite  as  our 
stamina,  and  though  you  may  divine  my  thoughts,  you  can 
never  comprehend  them.  Yet,  with  all  these  conflicting 
characteristics  a  great  affinity  exists  between  us;  it  is 
Goethe's  Walvei~wci7idschaft.  Throw  away  your  faded  flowers 
and  come  with  me  to  seek  fresh  ones.  You  say  that 
sunshine  exercises  a  cheering  influence  over  you, —  and  for 
myself,  though  I  love  you  at  all  seasons,  in  all  weather, 
the  happiness  of  seeing  }7ou  in  sunshine  is  a  more  exquisite 
happiness  still.  Is  it  possible  that  you  cannot  say  to  me 
all  that  you  write  ?  What  is  this  bizarre  timidity  that 
hinders    frankness,  prompts    you    to  wrap  your  thoughts  in 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  173 

words  more  perplexing  than  the  Apocalypse,  and  to  assert 
the  most  extraordinary  falsehood  rather  than  allow  a  word 
of  truth  to  escape  which  would  give  me  such  pleasure? 
Do  you  believe  in  the  devil?  In  my  opinion  the  pith 
of  the  matter  lies  there.  If  he  terrifies  you,  contrive 
that  he  do  not  carry  you  off.  I  do  not  guaranty  my 
catechism,  which,  however,  I  believe  to  be  the  best.  I 
have  never  sought  to  make  converts,  but,  up  to  the 
present  time,  neither  has  my  conversion  been  accomplished 
by  others. 

Yesterday  evening  I  went  to  the  opera,  where  they  pro- 
posed to  close  the  doors,  Ronconi  being  drunk  or  in  prison 
for  debt;  but  yielding  to  our  clamor  they  gave  us  wI/Elisir 
d'Amore  *  ;  after  which  I  corrected  proofs  until  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  I  do  not  concern  myself  so  much  about 
the  Academy  as  you  suppose.  I  have  hardly  a  chance  of 
success.  Do  you  think  any  magic  that  will  conjure  my 
name  from  the  deal-box  called  Urn? 

Paris,  March,  1844.*  —  Many  thanks  for  your  congratula- 
tions, but  I  wish  for  something  better ;  to  see  and  walk 
with  you.  I  think  you  take  the  matter  too  tragically. 
Why  do  you  weep  ?  The  (<  forty  chairs  *  were  not  worth 
one  little  tear.  I  am  very  heartily  gratified,  the  more  that 
I  expected  defeat ;  and  my  mother  who  was  suffering  from 
acute  rheumatism  was  suddenly  cured.  I  am  worn  out, 
demoralized,  and  completely  (( out  of  my  wits.*  Then  my 
novel,  "Arsene  Guillot,"  makes  a  signal  fiasco  and  rouses 
the  indignation  of  all  the  self-styled  virtuous  people,  espe- 
cially the  women  of  fashion  who  dance  the  polka  and 
throng  to  the  sermons  of  Pere  Ravignan,  and  who  go  so 
far  as  to  liken  me  to  a  monkey  who  climbs  to  the  top  of 
the  tree  and  makes  grimaces  ?X  the  world  below.  I  believe 
that  some  votes  have  been  lost  by  this  scandal ;  on  the 
other  hand,  some  have  been  gained.  Now,  to  show  my 
greatness  of  soul,  I  must  rush  about  thanking  friends  and 
enemies.  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  blackballed  seven 
times  by  persons  whom  I  detest,  yet  who  tell  me  that  they 
were  my  warmest  partisans ;    but    it    is   a    happiness   not  to 

*His  election  to  the  French  Academy. 


174  MERIMEE 

be  burdened  with  gratitude  toward  those  whom  we  hold  in 
slight  esteem.  My  Homer  deceived  me,  or  rather  it  was 
M.  Vatout  to  whom  the  threatening  vaticination  was  ad- 
dressed. 

March,  1844. —  I  fear  that  the  address  may  have  seemed 
too  long.  I  am  still  shivering  from  the  cold,  and  you  may 
have  perceived  my  terrible  cough,  which  might  have  been 
mistaken  for  a  cabal.  Did  you  prefer  the  full  dress  to  the 
frock  coat  ?  I  had  some  difficulty  in  discovering  you  hidden 
beneath  your  neighbor's  bonnet  —  another  bit  of  childish- 
ness. Did  you  see  what  I  sent  you,  in  full  view  of  the 
Academy?  But  of  course  you  never  wish  to  see  anything. 
Why  will  you  dispute  on  this  text :  <(  Which  loves  the 
best  ?  *  A  desirable  preliminary  would  be  to  come  to  an 
agreement  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  verb,  and  this  we  shall 
never  do ;  we  are  both  too  ignorant,  and  above  all  too  ig- 
norant of  each  other.  More  than  once  I  have  fancied  you 
to  be  clearly  revealed,  but  you  always  escape  me.  I  was 
right  in  calling  you  Cerberus,  (<  three  gentlemen  in  one.B 
Our  mutual  concessions  only  result  in  making  us  more  un- 
happy ;  and,  more  clear-sighted  than  you,  I  greatly  blame 
myself,  for  I  have  made  you  suffer  in  prolonging  an  illusion 
that  I  should  never  have  conceived.  For  you  I  have  no 
reproaches.  You  wished  to  reconcile  two  incompatible 
things,  but  in  vain.  Should  I  not  be  grateful  that  you 
essayed  the  impossible  for  my  sake?  On  the  whole,  per- 
haps you  will  one  day  come  to  regard  our  folly  only  in  its 
fairest  light,  will  remember  only  the  happy  moments  we 
have  passed  together. 

Consider  if  it  be  not  sad  for  me  to  find  myself  alwa3's  in 
conflict  with  your  pride,  my  great  enemy,  or  rather  rival 
in  your  heart,  and  which  triumphs  over  your  tenderness, 
in  comparison  with  which  it  is  a  Colossus  to  a  pigmy. 
This  premeditated  pleasure,  or,  I  prefer  to  believe,  instinct 
that  leads  you  to  excite  in  me  a  desire  for  what  you  obsti- 
nately refuse,  is  in  reality  a  species  of  selfishness.  All  that 
wounds  your  pride  stirs  you  to  rebellion  ;  and  unconsciously 
this  colors  the  most  trivial  details.  You  are  happy,  you 
tell  me,  when  I  kiss  your  hand,  and   you  yield  yourself  to 


LETTERS  TO   ANONYMA  175 

the  feeling  because  your  pride  is  satisfied  by  this  demon- 
stration of  humility.  You  wish  me  to  be  a  statue  that  you 
may  be  my  life,  my  soul-awakener ;  but  you  wish  for  no 
reciprocity  in  the  happiness  to  which  I  aspire,  as  that 
would  imply  an  equality  that  displeases  you.  I  shall  never 
place  my  pride  and  happiness  in  the  same  scale,  therefore 
if  you  will  kindly  suggest  new  formulas  of  humility,  I  will 
adopt  them  without  hesitation.  Is  not  the  friendship  which 
so  strangely  unites  us,  a  sweeter,  more  living  force  than 
all  the  victories  gained  by  your  demon  pride  ? 

Paris,  1844. —  I*  1S  decided  that  I  go  to  Algeria  next 
month  ;  and  while  you  are  learning  Greek  I  am  studying 
Arabic,  a  diabolical  language  of  which  I  shall  never  acquire 
two  words.  I  passed  a  day  at  Strasbourg,  exhorting  the 
authorities  with  sublime  eloquence  to  restore  an  ancient 
church ;  their  reply  being  that  they  were  in  greater  need 
of  tobacco  than  monuments,  and  that  they  should  convert 
the  church  into  a  storehouse.  The  cathedral  that  formerly 
I  liked  so  much  appears  absolutely  ugly,  and  even  the  wise 
and  foolish  virgins  of  Steinbach  hardly  found  grace  in  my 
eyes.  You  are  right  in  liking  Paris  so  well ;  it  is,  after 
all,  the  only  city  in  which  one  can  truly  live. 

I  dined  yesterday  with  General  Narvaez  —  an  entertain- 
ment in  honor  of  his  wife's  birthday.  Few  ladies  except  « 
Spanish  were  present.  One  was  pointed  out  to  me  who  is 
starving  herself  to  death  through  love,  and  is  gently  fading 
away.  This  species  of  suicide  must  seem  very  cruel  to 
you.  There  was  another  demoiselle,  whom  General  Ser- 
rano has  deserted  for  her  fat  Catholic  Majesty ;  but  she  is 
not  dying  of  it,  and  seems  even  to  be  in  excellent  health. 
There  was  also  Madame  Gonzalez  Bravo,  sister  of  the  actor 
Romea,  and  sister-in-law  of  the  same  Majesty,  who,  it  is 
said,  gives  herself  a  large  number  of  sisters-in-law.  This 
one  is  very  pretty  and  very  clever. 

Paris,  1844. — We  separated  yesterday  mutually  discon- 
tented, and  both  were  in  the  wrong.  It  is  evident  that  we 
can  no  longer  meet  without  quarreling  horribly.  We  both 
desire  the  impossible.     You  —  that  I  should  be  a  statue ;    I 


/A 


176  MERIMEE 

—  that  you  should  cease  to  be  one.  Every  fresh  proof  of 
this  impossibility,  which  at  heart  we  have  never  doubted, 
is  cruel  for  both.  For  my  part  I  regret  all  the  pain  I 
have  caused  you.  I  too  often  give  way  to  impulses  of  ab- 
surd anger ;  it  would  be  as  reasonable  to  feel  angry  against 
ice  for  being  cold.  I  hope  that  you  will  forgive  me ;  no 
resentment  remains,  only  a  heavy  sadness.  Adieu,  since 
only  at  a  distance  can  we  be  friends.  When  both  shall  be 
old,  we  may  perhaps  meet  again  with  pleasure ;  meanwhile, 
in  misfortune  or  in  happiness,  remember  me.  Once  more, 
while  I  have  the  courage,  adieu. 

Paris,  1844. —  My  occupation  at  this  moment  is  tedious 
and  low  beyond  measure  ;  I  am  soliciting  votes  for  the  Acad- 
emy of  Inscriptions.  The  most  absurd  scenes  occur,  and 
I  am  often  seized  with  a  wish  to  laugh,  which  must  be  re- 
pressed for  fear  of  shocking  the  gravity  of  the  Academi- 
cians. I  embarked  somewhat  blindly  in  the  affair,  but  my 
chances  are  not  bad.  You  are  wrong  to  be  jealous  of  In- 
scriptions. I  have  a  little  amour  propre  is  the  matter  ;  just 
as  in  a  game  of  chess  with  a  skillful  adversary,  but  neither 
loss  nor  gain  will  affect  me  a  quarter  so  much  as  one  of 
our  quarrels.  But  what  a  vile  calling  is  this  of  solicitor  ! 
Did  you  ever  see  dogs  enter  the  hole  of  a  badger?  When 
experienced  in  the  game  they  have  an  appalled  look  on 
entering,  and  often  come  out  more  quickly  than  they  go  in, 
for  it  is  an  ugly  brute  to  visit,  is  the  badger.  I  always 
think  of  the  badger  when  about  to  ring  the  bell  of  an 
Academician,  and  (<  in  the  mind's  eye  *  I  see  myself  an 
exact  likeness  of  that  dog.  However,  I  have  not  yet  been 
bitten. 

Poitiers,  1844. —  No  doubt  you  have  amused  yourself 
exceedingly,  which  I  cannot  but  believe  to  be  synonymous 
with  an  indulgence  in  coquetry.  Since  leaving  Paris  my 
life  has  been  unspeakably  disagreeable.  Like  Ulysses,  I 
have  seen  much  of  manners,  men,  and  cities,  and  find  them 
all  very  ugly.  I  have  had  several  attacks  of  fever  that 
astonished  and  grieved  me  as  proving  that  I  am  growing 
old.     I  find  the  country  the  flattest    and   most  insignificant 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  177 

in  France,  but  fine  forests,  great  trees,  and  vast  solitudes 
abound,  wherein  I  should  like  to  meet  you.  I  pass  my 
time  in  meditating  on  our  walks.  I  applaud  Scribe  for 
having  made  a  virtuous  and  neo-catholic  public  laugh  with 
the  prizes  for  virtue ;  and  I  am  equally  surprised  as  to 
what  you  say  of  his  elocution,  as  formerly  he  read  abomin- 
ably. It  must  be  the  academic  robe  that  bestows  this  self- 
command  ;  and  this  restored  a  little  hope  for  me. 

Perpignan,  1844. — I  have  been  tormented  by  an  absurd 
idea  which  I  hardly  dare  to  tell  you.  While  visiting  the 
arena  of  Nimes  with  the  architect  of  the  department,  who 
was  explaining  some  repairs  under  his  direction,  I  observed 
ten  paces  from  me  a  charming  bird  a  little  larger  than  a 
titmouse,  gray  body,  with  white,  red,  and  black  wings, 
which,  perching  itself  on  a  cornice,  looked  fixedly  at  me. 
The  architect,  a  great  sportsman,  had  never  seen  one  re- 
sembling it.  As  I  approached  it  flew  off,  poising  itself 
again  a  few  steps  distant,  still  regarding  me  closely  ;  and 
wherever  I  went,  in  every  story  of  the  amphitheatre,  it  fol- 
lowed me,  its  flight  being  noiseless,  like  that  of  a  night 
bird.  The  next  day  the  scene  was  repeated.  I  brought 
bread,  it  would  not  touch  it  ;  I  then  threw  it  a  grasshop- 
per, which  it  equally  disregarded,  still  watching  me.  The 
most  learned  ornithologist  of  the  town  tells  me  that  no  bird 
of  this  species  exists  in  this  region.  Finally,  at  my  last 
visit  to  the  amphitheatre,  my  bird  still  followed  my  steps 
so  far  as  to  enter  a  dark  and  narrow  corridor  where  a  day 
bird  would  seldom  venture.  I  then  remembered  that  the 
Duchess  of  Buckingham  saw  her  husband  under  the  form 
of  a  bird  the  day  of  his  assassination,  and  the  idea  flashed 
upon  me  that  you  were  dead  and  had  assumed  this  shape 
to  visit  me.  In  spite  of  myself  this  nonsense  distressed 
me,  and  I  was  enchanted  to  find  your  letter  dated  the  day 
on  which  I  first  saw  my  marvelous  bird. 

A  fair  is  in  progress  here,  and  the  town  additionally 
thronged  with  Spaniards  flying  from  the  epidemic,  so  that 
I  was  unable  to  obtain  lodging  at  an  inn,  and  should  have 
been  reduced  to  a  bed  in  the  street  but  for  the  commisera- 
tion  of    a  hatter.     I   write    in   a    cold    little    room   with   a 


178  MERIMEE 

smoking  chimney,  cursing  the  rain  that  dashes  against  my 
window ;  the  woman  who  serves  me  speaks  Catalan,  and 
only  understands  me  when  I  speak  Spanish  ;  while,  worst 
of  all,  the  flood  threatens  to  carry  away  the  bridge  and  de- 
tain me  here,  a  wretched  prisoner.  An  admirable  situation 
for  the  expression  of  ideas. 

I  have  been  to  the  Fountain  of  Vaucluse,  where  I  wished 
to  inscribe  your  name,  but  there  were  so  many  atrocious 
verses,  so  many  Sophies  and  Carolines,  that  I  would  not 
profane  it  by  such  bad  company.  Parthenay  I  found  a 
horrible  town  of  ckouans,  with  an  abominable  tavern  where 
they  made  an  infernal  noise,  and  mixed  so  much  stable 
with  my  dinner  as  to  make  it  impossible  for  me  to  eat.  At 
Saint-  Maixent  I  saw  women  with  headgear  of  the  four- 
teenth century,  and  the  waist  of  the  dress  of  nearly  the 
same  period,  allowing  the  chemise  to  be  seen,  which  is  of 
coarse  house-cloth,  buttoned  under  the  chin,  and  open  like 
men's  shirts ;  and  in  spite  of  the  gingerbread  beneath  I 
thought  it  very  pretty. 

Paris,  February,  1845.  —  Everything  passed  off  better 
than  I  had  hoped.*  I  was  perfectly  self-possessed,  and  am 
well  content  with  the  public,  though  I  know  not  if  it  be  so 
with  me.  All  is  well  since  you  did  not  find  me  ridiculous. 
I  should  have  lost  my  confidence  had  I  known  you  to  be 
present,  in  view  especially  of  my  tarragon-colored  coat  and 
my  face  idem. 

Toulouse. —  Fortunately  I  find  here  your  letter,  for  I  was 
furious  at  your  silence.  You  are  never  so  near  forgetting 
me  as  when  persuading  me  that  I  am  in  your  thought. 
You  ask  me  to  pet  you,  but  I  am  in  too  bad  a  humor,  hav- 
in  been  in  a  continuous  rage  this  past  fortnight  against 
you,  against  myself,  the  weather,  and  the  architects.  I 
passed  four-and-twenty  hours  at  the  house  of  a  Deputy  and 
if  I  were  ambitious  of  being  a  politician  this  visit  would 
have  completely  quenched  my  aspirations.  "What  a  calling  ! 
what  people  one    must   see,  conciliate,  flatter !     I    say   with 

*His  reception  at  the  French  Academy. 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYM  A  179 

Hotspur  :  <(  I  had  rather  be  a  kitten  and  cry  mew. N>  Slav- 
ery for  slavery,  I  prefer  the  court  of  a  despot  ;  at  least  the 
greater  part  of  despots  wash  their  hands.  In  England,  no 
doubt,  Lady  M will  beset  you  again  with  her  fine  theo- 
ries <(  about  the  baseness  of  being  in  love.  *  God  knows 
if  you  will  not  return  three-quarters  English.  While  you 
are  luxuriating  in  melting  peaches,  I  am  eating  yellew,  acid 
ones  of  a  singular  but  not  unpleasant  flavor,  and  figs  of 
every  color.  I  am  immeasurably  bored  in  the  evening,  and 
begin  to  wish  for  the  society  of  bipeds  of  my  own  species.  I 
count  the  provincials  as  naught,  being  fatiguing  to  my  eyes 
and  entirely  foreign  to  my  circle  of  thought. 

Barcelona,  1845. —  I  have  reached  the  goal  of  my  long 
journey,  and  have  been  admirably  received  by  my  archivist, 
who  had  already  prepared  my  tables  and  the  ancient  books 
in  which  I  shall  lose  what  remains  of  my  sight.  To  find 
his  despacho,  a  gothic  hall  of  the  fourteenth  century  must 
be  traversed,  and  a  marble  court  planted  with  orange-trees 
as  tall  as  our  lime-trees,  and  covered  with  ripe  fruit.  This 
is  very  poetical,  and  as  regards  comfort  and  luxury  recalls, 
as  does  my  chamber,  the  Asiatic  caravanserai.  However,  it 
is  better  than  Andalusia,  though  the  natives  are  inferior 
and  have  a  fatal  defect  in  my  eyes,  or  rather  ears,  in  that 
I  understand  nothing  of  their  gibberish.  At  Perpignan,  I 
met  two  gypsies  who  were  cropping  mules,  and  I  spoke 
cald  to  them  to  the  great  horror  of  my  companion,  a  colonel 
of  artillery  ;  while  they,  finding  me  even  more  skilled  than 
themselves  in  the  patois,  offered  a  striking  testimony  to  my 
attainments  of  which  I  was  not  a  little  proud.  In  summing 
up  the  results  of  my  journey,  my  conviction  is,  that  it  was 
unnecessary  to  come  so  far,  and  that  my  history  could  have 
been  satisfactorily  accomplished  without  disturbing  the  ven- 
erable dust  of  Aragonese  archives. 

Madrid,  November,  1845. —  I  have  been  installed  here  a 
week  in  the  midst  of  intense  cold,  rain,  and  a  climate  quite 
similar  to  that  of  Paris ;  only,  I  look  on  snow-capped 
mountains  and  live  familiarly  with  very  fine  Velasquez. 
Thanks  to  the    ineffable    slowness   of   these    people,  I    have 


180  MERIMEE 

only  to-day  begun  to  ferret  among  the  manuscripts,  as  an 
academic  council  was  necessary  to  permit  me  to  examine 
them,  and  I  know  not  how  many  intrigues  to  enable  me 
to  obtain  information  as  to  their  existence. 

I  find  this  country  much  changed,  and  less  agreeable 
since  my  last  visit.  Persons  whom  I  left  friends  are  now 
mortal  enemies ;  many  of  my  former  acquaintances  have 
become  grandees,  and  very  insolent.  Every  one  thinks 
aloud,  with  but  slight  consideration  for  others,  and  a 
frankness  prevails  that  amazes  us  Frenchmen,  and  me  the 
more,  inasmuch  as  you  have  lately  accustomed  me  to  some- 
thing very  different.  You  should  make  a  tour  beyond  the 
Pyrenees  to  take  a  lesson  in  frankness.  You  can  form  no 
conception  of  the  expression  of  the  swain's  face  when  the 
beloved  object  does  not  arrive  at  the  appointed  hour,  nor 
of  the  noise  of  the  escaping  sighs ;  but  such  scenes  are  so 
common  as  to  create  no  scandal  nor  tittle-tattle.  I  see 
happy  lovers,  and  find  that  they  take  advantage  of  the 
confidence  and  intimacy  accorded  by  their  innamoratas. 
The  most  romantic  do  not  comprehend  in  the  least  what 
we  term  gallantry :  the  lovers  here,  truth  to  say,  are 
merely  husbands  non-authorized  by  the  church.  They  are 
the  souffre  douleur  of  the  legal  husband,  execute  commis- 
sions, and  nurse  Madame  when  she  takes  medicine.  Not- 
withstanding your  infernal  coquetry,  and  your  aversion  for 
the  truth,  I  love  you  far  more  than  all  these  over-frank 
people.  Do  not  take  advantage  of  this  avowal.  It  is  so 
cold  that  we  shall  have  no  bull-fight ;  but  a  number  of 
balls  are  announced,  the  tedium  of  which  is  inexpressi- 
ble. 

August,  184.6,  on  board  a  steamboat. —  I  have  been  among 
the  mountains  seeking  some  spot  remote  from  electors  and 
candidates,  but  I  found  such  quantities  of  flies  and  fleas 
that  I  am  not  sure  if  the  elections  be  not  preferable. 
Yesterday  evening  I  spent  with  peasant  men  and  women, 
making  their  hair  stand  on  end  with  ghost  stories.  There 
was  a  magnificent  moon  that  lighted  up  their  regular  fea- 
tures and  showed  the  fine  black  eyes  of  these  damsels, 
while  idealizing  the  condition  of  their  hands  and  stockings. 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  181 

I  went  to  bed  very  proud  of  my  success  with  this,  to  me, 
novel  audience ;  but  in  the  morning  on  seeing  my  Ardi- 
choises  by  sunlight  con  villanos  memos  y  pies,  I  almost  re- 
gretted my  eloquence. 

Paris,  1846. —  I  find  the  provinces  more  stupid  and 
unendurable  each  year.  I  could  not  well  describe  the 
tedium  and  various  annoyances  of  this  little  tour.  It  re- 
calls Clarence's  dream  :  — 

<(I  would  not  spend  another  such  a  night, 
Though  'twere  to  buy  a  world  of  happy  days.* 

Paris  is  absolutely  empty  of  intelligent  inhabitants,  only 
cap-makers  and  Deputies  remaining,  which  is  nearly  the 
same  thing.  I  am  even  more  isolated  here  than  usual,  de- 
pressed by  something  of  the  feeling  of  an  emigri  who  on 
returning  to  his  country  finds  a  new  generation.  It  will 
strike  you  that  I  have  grown  horribly  old  —  all  of  which 
simply  means  that  I  am  sad,  very  cross,  and  that  it  is 
you,  our  walks,  which  I  need.  Perhaps  when  the  sea  air 
shall  have  tarnished  your  dresses,  or  fresh  ones  arrive  from 
Paris,  you  will  send  me  a  thought.  There  is  nothing  on 
earth  half  so  charming  to  a  woman,  it  is  said,  as  to  dis- 
play pretty  toilets.  I  can  offer  you  no  equivalent  for 
these  joys ;  but  I  should  suffer  too  much  in  believing  you 
to  be  so  constituted.     I  learn,  with    pleasure,  that    you  are 

so  heartily  wearied  at ,  which  I  predicted.    After  living 

in  Paris,  the  provinces  are  insupportable ;  one  says  and 
does  numberless  enormities  that  are  overlooked  in  Paris, 
but  which  in  a  village  are  magnified  to  the  size  of  a 
house. 

Bonn,  1846. —  When  once  launched  on  a  journey  I  have 
the  utmost  difficulty  in  coming  to  a  halt ;  and  very  seduct- 
ive promises  will  be  needed  to  prevent  me  from  pushing  on 
to  Lapland.  I  have  been  six  days  in  this  admirable  coun- 
try, I  mean  Rhenish  Prussia,  where  civilization  is  very 
advanced,  with  the  exception  of  the  beds,  which  are  still 
four  feet  long,  the  sheets  three.  I  lead  an  altogether  Ger- 
man life.     I  rise  at  five  o'clock  and  go  to  bed  at  nine,  after 


1 82  MERIMEE 

partaking  of  four  meals,  which  routine  suits  me  quite  well ; 
and  I  am  not  yet  ill  with  doing  nothing  save  opening  my 
mouth  and  eyes.  Only,  the  German  women  have  become 
horribly  ugly  since  my  last  visit. 

With  respect  to  monuments,  I  am  by  no  means  satisfied 
with  those  I  have  seen,  the  German  architects  appearing 
to  me  even  worse  then  our  own.  They  have  denuded  the 
Minister  at  Bonn,  and  painted  the  Abbe)r  at  Lahr  in  a  way 
to  make  one  grind  one's  teeth.  The  scenery  of  the  Moselle 
is  very  much  overpraised,  and  I  have  seen  nothing  really 
striking  since  passing  the  Tmolus.  My  admiration  is  ex- 
clusively reserved  for  the  umbrageous  foliage  and  for  their 
fine  conception  of  the  cuisine;  here  the  most  important 
occupation  is  zu  speisen.  All  honest  people  after  dining  at 
one  o'clock  take  tea  and  cakes  at  four,  go  to  a  garden  at 
six  to  eat  a  roll  and  stuffed  tongue,  which  enables  them 
to  sustain  nature  until  eight,  when  they  go  to  a  hotel  to 
have  their  supper.  What  becomes  of  the  women  during 
this  period  I  do  not  know,  but  it  is  certain  that  from  eight 
to  ten  o'clock  not  a  man  remains  in  the  house,  each  one 
being  at  his  favorite  hotel,  eating,  drinking,  and  smoking ; 
and  the  reason  of  this  may,  I  think,  be  found  in  the  large 
feet  of  these  ladies  and  the  excellence  of  Rhenish  wine. 

(Paris,  March,  1848. — I  have  never  been  more  sadly 
shocked  by  the  stupidity  of  the  Northern  people,  and  also 
by  their  inferiority  to  those  of  the  South,  than  during  my 
recent  tour,  the  average  native  of  Picardy  striking  me  as 
much  below  the  lowest  class  of  Provence ;  in  addition  to 
which  I  nearly  perished  with  cold  in  all  the  inns  to  which 
my  evil  destiny  led  me. 

I    am    tormented     by    the    failure    of    the   firm,    in 

which  I  fear  your  interests  also  are  at  stake  ;  and  each  day 
will  bring  us  fresh  disturbance.  We  must  sustain  each 
other  and  share  the  little  courage  remaining  to  us.  You 
are  too  much  alarmed  ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  give  advice  and 
to  see  clearly  through  the  fog  that  stretches  over  our 
future.  Many  persons  believe  Paris,  all  things  considered, 
to  be  safer  than  the  country,  and  I  am  also  of  this 
opinion.     I  have  no  fear  of  a  street  battle,  first,  because  no 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  183 

sufficient  motive  exists ;  then  that  strength  and  audacity 
are  on  the  one  side,  while  I  see  only  dullness  and  cow- 
ardice on  the  other.  If  civil  war  should  break  out,  it 
will  be  first  declared  in  the  country,  as  great  irritation  has 
been  aroused  against  the  dictatorship  of  the  capital,  and 
perhaps  measures,  now  impossible  to  foresee,  may  lead  to 
this  result  in  the  West.  As  to  the  consequence  of  the 
riots,  contrast  those  of  the  first  revolution  in  Paris  with 
the  one  two  years  ago  at  Buzancais, —  more  deplorable  than 
all  those  of  '93.  Everything  passed  off  quietly  yesterday, 
and  we  shall  have  numerous  similar  processions  before  any 
shot  will  be  fired,  if  indeed  that  should  ever  happen  in  this 
timid  country. 

Paris,  May,  1848. —  All  has  passed  off  well,  for  the 
reason  that  they  are  such  fools  that  the  Chamber,  notwith- 
standing all  its  faults,  has  proved  to  be  stronger  than 
they.  There  are  neither  killed  nor  wounded,  everything  is 
quiet,  and  an  excellent  feeling  prevails  between  the  people 
and  the  National  Guard.  The  leading  insurgents  have 
been  arrested,  and  so  many  troops  are  under  arms  that  for 
some  time  to  come  there  will  be  nothing  to  fear.  I  have 
witnessed  some  highly  dramatic  scenes.  I  am  worn  out 
with  a  night's  service  with  the  Guards,  but,  after  all, 
fatigue  has  its  advantage  at  this  time.  The  happiness  of 
seeing  you  is  as  great  under  the  Republic  as  under  the 
Monarchy,  and  you  must  not  be  avaricious  in  its  bestowal. 
But  the  most  important,  pressing  thing  to  tell  you  is,  that 
each  day  I  love  you  more  and  more,  and  I  should  be  glad 
could  you  summon  courage  to  say  the  same  to  me. 

June,  1848. —  I  returned  this  morning  from  a  little  cam- 
paign of  four  days,  during  which  I  ran  no  danger  and  was 
enabled  to  see  the  horrors  of  the  day  and  of  this  country. 
In  the  midst  of  my  distress  I  grieve  above  all  for  the  folly 
of  France  :  it  is  unequaled.  I  cannot  see  that  it  will  ever 
be  possible  to  turn  her  aside  from  the  savage  barbarism  in 
which  she  shows  so  strong  an  inclination  to  wallow.  I 
hope  that  your  brother  is  safe :  I  do  not  think  that  his 
legion    was    seriously    in    action.     I    will    hastily    relate    a 


1 84  MERIMEE 

curious  incident  or  two  before  going  to  bed.  The  La 
Force  prison  was  protected  for  several  hours  by  the  Na- 
tional Guard  and  surrounded  by  the  insurgents,  who  said 
to  the  soldiers :  <(  Do  not  fire  on  us  and  we  will  not  fire  on 
you  —  take  care  of  the  prisoners."  To  watch  the  battle  I 
entered  a  house  that  had  just  been  rescued  from  the  rebels 
and  asked  the  occupants,  <(  Did  they  take  much  from 
you?"  "They  stole  nothing."  Add  to  this,  that  I  led  a 
woman  to  the  abbey  who  had  employed  herself  in  cutting 
off  the  heads  of  the  Guards  with  her  kitchen  knife;  and 
that  I  saw  a  man  whose  two  arms  were  red  with  the 
blood  of  a  dying  soldier  whose  belly  he  had  ripped  up, 
laving  his  hands  in  the  gaping  wound.  Do  you  begin  to 
understand  somewhat  of  this  great  nation?  What  is  quite 
certain  is,  that  we  are  going  headlong  to  the  devil. 

July,  1848. —  Paris  is,  and  will  be  quiet  for  some  time  to 
come.  I  do  not  think  that  the  civil,  or  rather  the  social 
war  is  at  an  end,  but  another  buttle  so  frightful  as  the 
recent  one  seems  impossible,  the  recurrence  of  the  infinity 
of  circumstances  necessary  to  bring  it  about  not  being 
probable.  Of  its  hideous  results  which  your  imagination 
doubtless  paints,  you  will  find  but  few  traces,  the  glazier 
and  house-painter  having  already  effected  their  removal ; 
but  you  will  see  many  long  faces.  What  can  one  do?  the 
regime  is  de  facto,  and  we  must  accustom  ourselves  to  it. 
By  and  by  we  shall  cease  to  think  of  the  morrow,  and  on 
awaking  in  the  morning  shall  be  happy  in  the  certainty  of 
an  undisturbed  evening.  The  days  are  long  and  warm,  and 
as  tranquil  as  could  be  wished,  or  rather  hoped  for  under 
the  Republic.  All  the  signs  foretell  a  prolonged  truce.  The 
disarming  is  effected  with  vigor,  and  produces  good  results. 
One  curious  symptom  is  remarked ;  namely,  that  in  the 
insurgent  faubourgs  any  number  of  informers  can  be  found 
to  point  out  the  hiding-places  and  even  the  leaders  of  the 
barricades.  It  is  a  good  sign,  you  know,  when  wolves  fall 
to  fighting  among  themselves.  The  14th  of  July  passed  by 
very  quietly,  notwithstanding  the  sinister  predictions  with 
which  we  were  favored.  The  truth  —  if  it  can  be  discov- 
ered under  the  srovernment    under    which  we  have  the  good 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYM  A  185 

fortune  to  live — the  truth  is,  that  our  chances  for  tran- 
quillity have  been  singularly  increased.  To  bring  about  the 
events  of  June,  several  years  of  organization  and  four  months 
of  arming  were  requisite.  A  second  representation  of  this 
bloody  tragedy  appears  to  me  impossible  ;  nevertheless,  some 
little  plot,  several  assassinations,  and  a  few  riots  are  still  prob- 
able. We  shall  have  perhaps  a  half  century  in  which  to  per- 
fect ourselves,  the  one  party  in  the  construction  of  barricades, 
the  other  in  their  destruction.  Paris  is  now  being  filled 
with  mortars  and  howitzers,  both  transportable  and  effica- 
cious—  a  novel  argument,   and  said  to  be  excellent. 

I  went  yesterday  to  Saint-Germain  to  order  a  dinner  for 
the  Society  of  Bibliophiles,  where  I  found  a  cook  not  only 
capable,  but  eloquent,  who  comprehended  at  once  the  most 
fantastic  dishes  that  I  proposed.  This  great  man  resides  in 
the  portion  of  the  palace  in  which  Henry  IV.  was  born, 
which  commands  one  of  the  loveliest  views  in  the  world, 
while  a  few  steps  bring  one  to  a  wood  with  great  trees 
and  magnificent  undergrowth.  And  not  a  soul  to  enjoy  all 
this  ! 

You  resemble  Antseus,  who  renewed  his  strength  in  touch- 
ing the  earth.  You  no  sooner  touch  your  native  soil  than 
you  relapse  into  your  old  defects.  Your  letter  does  not  tell 
me  how  long  I  am  to  suffer  the  purgatory  of  your  absence. 
It  was  redolent  of  a  perfume  so  much  the  more  delicious 
from  being  familiar  to  me,  and  which  brings  to  me  so  many 
charming  associations.  I  think  of  you  unceasingly ;  even 
while  looking  at  the  fighting  at  the  Bastille  my  thoughts 
were  of  you. 

August,  1848. —  This  evening  while  my  friend  M.  Mignet 
was  strolling  with  Mademoiselle  Bosue  in  the  little  garden 
fronting  the  residence  of  M.  Thiers,  a  ball  came  down  with- 
out the  least  noise,  struck  the  house  very  near  Madame 
Thiers' s  window  and  glancing  thence  wounded  a  little  girl 
seated  beyond  the  garden  railing.  The  ball  was  quickly 
extracted,  and  no  ill  will  ensue  save  a  slight  scar:  but  for 
whom  was  it  intended?  Mignet?  that  is  impossible.  Made- 
moiselle Dosne?  still  more  so.  Neither  Madame  nor  M. 
Thiers  was  at  home.     No  one  heard  the  explosion,  the  ball 


186  MERIMEE 

was  of  regulation  size,  and  air-guns  are  of  a  much  smaller 
calibre.  I  believe  it  to  have  been  a  republican  attempt  at 
intimidation,  as  foolish  as  ail  else  that  is  done  in  this  our 
day.  Cavaignac  says  :  *  They  will  kill  me,  L,amoriciere  will 
succeed  me,  then  Bedeau  ;  after  whom  will  come  the  Due  d'Isly, 
who  will  sweep  everything  clean.  *  Does  this  not  strike  you 
as  prophetic?  No  one  believes  in  an  intervention  in  Italy. 
The  Republic  will  be  even  rather  more  cowardly  than  the  Mon- 
archy ;  they  may,  however,  make  a  pretense  of  allowing 
it  to  be  supposed  that  intervention  is  probable,  hoping  by 
this  ruse  to  obtain  a  congress,  protocols,  and  a  compromise. 
One  of  my  friends,  just  returned  from  Italy,  was  plundered 
by  the  Roman  volunteers,  who  find  that  travelers  are  made 
of  better  stuff  than  the  Croats.  He  asserts  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  make  the  Italians  fight,  with  the  exception 
of  the  Piedmontese.  Throw  aside  your  Romaic ;  it  will 
be  love's  labor  lost.  In  vainly  trying  to  learn  it  I  forgot 
my  Greek,  and  it  will  play  you  the  same  trick.  I  am  sur- 
prised at  your  facile  comprehension  of  this  gibberish,  which 
as  a  language,  morever,  will  soon  disappear,  for  Greek  is 
already  spoken  at  Athens,  and  Romaic  will  only  be  used  by 

•the  lower  orders.  Since  1841,  not  a  single  Turkish  word, 
formerly  so  frequent,  has  been  heard  in  the  Greece  of  King 
Otho. 

Yesterday,  at  the  general  competition  for  prizes,  one  was 
awarded  to  an  urchin  named  Leroy,  whereupon  his  com- 
rades exclaimed  <(  Vive  le  roi !  * 

General  Cavaignac  who  assisted  at  the  ceremony  laughed 

<  with  a  very  good  grace  :  but  the  same  boy  receiving  yet 
another  prize,  the  applause  became  so  uproarious  that  the 
general  lost  countenance  and  twisted  his  beard  as  if  he 
would  pluck  it  out  by  the  roots. 

August,  1848. — We  hear  rumors  of  fresh  riots;  and  now 
the  cholera  is  coming  to  complicate  matters.  M.  Ledru  is 
thought  to  be  inciting  a  disturbance  by  way  of  protest 
against  the  administrative  inquiry.  The  situation  closely 
resembles  that  of  Rome  during  Catiline's  conspiracy,  only 
there  is  no  Cicero.  A  most  grievous  symptom  is  that  Citu 
zen  Proudhon  has  a  great    number    of    adherents,  his    little 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  187 

sheets  being  sold  in  the  faubourgs  by  thousands  —  all  of 
which  is  sad,  but  to  me  the  ennui  of  the  approaching  rain 
and  cold  is  more  serious  and  much  more  certain  than  the 
riot.  I  suffer  much,  and  should  'be  excessively  vexed  to 
die  before  our  breakfast  at  Saint- Germain. 

London,  June,  1850. —  The  most  decided  impression  re- 
ceived from  this  journey  is  that  the  English  are  individually 
stupid  {bites),  but  an  admirable  people  en  masse.  Every- 
thing that  can  be  done  by  the  aid  of  money,  good  sense, 
and  patience,  they  do  ;  but  of  the  arts  they  have  no  more 
notion  than  my  cat. 

The  Nepaulese  princes  are  here,  with  whom  you  would 
fall  in  love.  They  wear  flat  turbans  bordered  with  enor- 
mous pear-shaped  emeralds,  and  are  a  mass  of  satin, 
cashmere,  and  gold.  They  are  of  a  deep  milk  and 
coffee  color,  have  a  good  air,  and  appear  to  be  intelli- 
gent. 

We  are  going  to  Hampton  Court  to  avoid  the  chances  for 
suicide  that  the  Lord's  Day  in  this  city  would  not  fail  to  offer. 
I  dined  yesterday  with  a  bishop  and  a  dean,  who  have  made 
me  even  still  more  a  socialist.  The  bishop  belongs  to  what 
the  Germans  call  the  rationalist  school ;  he  does  not  even  be- 
lieve what  he  preaches,  and  on  the  strength  of  his  black 
silk  apron  enjoys  five  or  six  thousand  pounds  a  'year  and 
passes  his  time  in  reading  Greek.  The  women  all  look  as  ' 
if  made  of  wax  ;  and  wear  such  expansive  bustles  that  the 
pavement  of  Regent  Street  is  only  wide  enough  to  hold  one 
woman  at  a  time.  I  passed  yesterday  morning  in  the  new 
House  of  Commons,  which  is  a  frightful  monstrosity ;  I 
had  previously  no  conception  of  what  could  be  accomplished  \ 
with  an  utter  want  of  taste  and  two  millions  sterling.  I 
have  strong  fears  of  becoming  a  thorough  socialist  by  dint 
of  eating  admirable  dinners  from  silver  gilt  plates,  and  see- 
ing persons  who  win  forty  thousand  pounds  sterling  at  the 
Epsom  races.  There  is  as  yet  no  probability  of  a  revolu- 
tionary outbreak  here.  The  servility  of  the  lower  orders, 
of  which  we  see  each  day  some  fresh  example,  conflicts 
with  our  democratic  ideas  :  it  is  a  question  of  moment  to 
know  if  they  are  more  happy. 


1 88  MERIMEE 

Salisbury,  June,  1 850.  —  I  begin  to  have  enough  of  this 
region.  I  am  worn  out  with  the  perpendicular  architecture, 
and  the  manners,  equally  perpendicular,  of   the    natives.     I 

fhave  passed  two  days  at  Cambridge  and  Oxford  with  the 
reverends,  and,  all  things  considered,  I  prefer  the  Capuchins. 
I  am  especially  furious  against  Oxford.  A  Fellow  had  the 
insolence  to  invite  me  to  dinner.  There  was  a  fish  four 
inches  long,  in  a  great  silver  dish,  and  a  lamb  cutlet  in 
another :  all  this  served  in  magnificent  style,  with  potatoes 
in  a  dish  of  carved  wood.  But  never  was  I  so  hungry. 
This  is  the  result  of  the  hypocrisy  of  these  people.  They 
like  to  show  their  abstinence  to  foreigners,  and,  eating 
luncheon,  they  do  not  dine.  Were  it  not  broad  day  at 
eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  one  might  believe  it  to  be 
December,  which  does  not  hinder  the  women  from  going 
out  with  open  parasol.  It  is  impossible  to  see  anything 
more  ridiculous  than  an  Englishwoman  in  the  hoop  that  is 
worn  here. 

I  have  just  committed  a  blunder.  I  gave  half  a  crown 
to  a  man  in  black  who  showed  me  over  the  cathedral,  and 
then  I  asked  him  for  the  address  of  a  gentleman  for  whom 
I  had  a  letter  from  the  dean.  He  proved  to  be  the  very 
person  to  whom  the  letter  was  addressed.  He  looked  very 
foolish,  and  so  did  I :  but  he  kept  the  money. 

Who  is  a  Miss  Jewsbury,  rather  red-haired,  who  writes 
novels?  I  met  her  recently  and  she  told  me  that  she 
had  dreamed  all  her  life  of  a  pleasure  that  she  believed 
impossible,  that  of  seeing  me  —  verbatim.  She  has  writ- 
ten a  novel  entitled  "Zoe."  Will  you,  who  read  so 
much,  tell  me  who  is  this  person  for  whom  I  am  a  ro- 
mance ? 

Paris,  June,  1851. — Yesterday  I  accepted  an  invitation 
from  the  Princess  Mathilde  to  see  the  Spanish  dancers,  who 
are  very  midiocre.  The  dance  at  the  Mabille  has  killed  the 
bolero,  and  these  dames  wore  such  a  quantity  of  crinoline 
as  to  prove  clearly  the  encroachment  of  civilization.  A 
girl  and  her  old  duenna  amused  me  by  their  intense  sur- 
prise at  finding  themselves  beyond  the  tierra  of  Jesus ;  they 
were  as  perfect  barbarians  as  could  be  desired. 


LETTERS  TO   ANONYMA  189 

Paris,  December ;  1851. —  The  last  battle,  I  believe,  is 
now  being  fought ;  but  who  will  win  ?  Should  the  Presi- 
dent lose,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  heroic  Deputies  should 
give  way  to  Ledru-Rollin.  I  have  returned  home  horribly 
fatigued,  and  have  met  none  but  madmen.  The  look  of 
Paris  recalls  that  of  February,  except  that  now  the  soldiers 
are  very  fierce  and  terrify  the  citizens.  The  military 
are  sure  of  success,  but  we  understand  their  almanac. 
However  this  may  be,  we  have  just  escaped  a  reef  and  are 
sailing  toward  the  unknown. 

Paris,  1852.  —  I  am  threatened  with  a  lawsuit  for  con-'X 
tempt  of  court  and  attack  upon  the  final  judgment;  while 
the  School  of  Charts  is  also  sharpening  its  claws  to  tear 
me  to  pieces,  I  shall  be  compelled  to  undergo  an  examina- 
tion and  to  engage  in  desperate  polemics.  In  case  I  fail, 
try  to  keep  well  and  come  to  see  me  in  prison.  I  do  not 
know  whether  they  will  hang  me,  but  I  am  very  fidgetty 
at  the  thought  of  a  public  ceremony  in  presence  of  the 
very  cream  of  the  rabble,  and  three  imbeciles  in  black 
gowns  as  stiff  as  pickets  and  convinced  of  their  own  im- 
portance, to  whom  one  cannot  dream  of  expressing  one's  k 
contempt  for  their  gowns,   their  person,   and  their  mind. 

May,   185 1. —  Four  days  in    prison  and   a  thousand  francs 

n        1       tit        1  1  it       .li         •      1  •     -i  ix 

fine?  My  lawyer  argued  well,  the  judges  were  civil,  and  I 
not  at  all  nervous.  I  shall  not  appeal.  I  pass  my  time  in 
reading  Beyle's  correspondence.  It  has  rejuvenated  me 
twenty  years.  It  is  as  if  I  were  making  the  autopsy  of 
the  thoughts  of  a  man  whom  I  have  known  intimately 
and  whose  ideas  respecting  men  and  things  had  grown 
singularly  colorless  by  the  side  of  my  experience.  This 
renders  me  sad  and  gay  twenty  times  within  the  hour,  and 
makes  me  regret  having  burned  Beyle's  letters  to  me. 

Carabanchel,  1853. —  On  arriving  here  I  found  prepara- 
tions for  a  ftte  at  which  a  comedy  was  to  be  played  and  a 
loa  (a  dithyrambic  dialogue)  recited  in  honor  of  the  lady 
of  the  house  and  her  daughter.  My  services  were  called 
into     requisition     to     paint    skies,     repair    decorations,    and 


\ 


190  MERIMEE 

design  costumes,  not  to  enumerate  the  rehearsals  of  five 
mythological  goddesses,  who  on  the  fatal  day  looked  ex- 
ceedingly pretty  but  were  overcome  with  terror.  The  au- 
dience applauded  warmly,  without  understanding  in  the 
least  the  nonsensical  rigmarole  of  the  poet  author  of  the 
loa.  The  comedy  was  better,  and  I  admire  the  facility 
with  which  the  young  girls  of  society  transform  themselves 
into  passable  actresses.  During  supper  a  protigi  of  the 
Countess  improvised  some  pretty  verses  that  moved  the 
heroine  to  tears  and  disposed  every  one  else  to  drink 
rather  too  generously.  As  there  are  nine  ladies  here  with- 
out a  gentleman,  I  am  called  at  Madrid,  <(  Apollo. *  Of 
the  nine  Muses  five  unfortunately  are  mothers,  but  the  re- 
maining four  are  true  born  Andalusians  with  little  ferocious 
airs  that  are  ravishing,  especially  when  in  their  Olympian 
costume  with  peplum,  which  through  love  of  euphony  they 
persist  in  calling  t>eplo. 

Madrid,  October,  1853. —  I  went  yesterday  to  see  Cuchares, 
the  best  matador  since  Montes.  The  bulls  were  so  indiffer- 
ent that  it  was  necessary  to  excite  them  by  little  fiery 
darts.  Two  men  were  thrown  into  the  air,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment we  thought  them  dead,  which  imparted  some  slight 
interest  to  the  spectacle  ;  otherwise  everything  was  detest- 
able. The  bulls  no  longer  have  any  spirit,  and  the  men 
are  not  much  better  than  the  bulls.  The  ugly  convent  of 
the  Escurial  is  as  sad  as  when  I  saw  it  twenty  years  ago, 
but  civilization  has  penetrated  its  walls  and  one  finds  iron 
bedsteads  and  cutlets,  but  no  longer  fleas  and  monks.  The 
absence  of  the  latter  distinctive  element  renders  Herrera's 
heavy  architecture  still  more  ridiculous. 

I  will  bring  you  the  garters,  which  I  had  difficulty  in 
finding.  Civilization  makes  such  rapid  progress  that  on 
nearly  every  leg  the  elastic  has  replaced  the  classic  ligas 
of  former  days  ;  and  when  I  asked  the  chamber-maids  to 
show  me  a  shop  where  they  were  sold  they  indignantly 
crossed  themselves,  saying  that  they  no  longer  wore  such 
obsolete  fashions,  which  were  only  in  use  by  the  common 
people.  Mantillas  are  nearly  as  rare ;  they  are  superseded 
by  bonnets  :  and  such  bonnets  ! 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  191 

Last  week   the  fite  of  Saint  Eugenie  was  celebrated  at 

the  French  embassy  by  a  ball,  at  which  Madame ,  wife 

of  the  United  States  Minister,  appeared  in  a  costume  so 
designed  as  to  make  one  split  with  laughter  —  black  velvet 
bordered  with  gold  lace  and  tinsel,  and  a  tawdry  diadem. 
Her  son,  who  looks  like  a  boor,  made  inquiries  respecting 
the  position  of  the  persons  present  and  having  obtained 
satisfactory  information  sent  a  challenge  to  a  very  noble, 
very  rich  duke,  a  great  simpleton,  and  desirous  of  living 
yet  a  long  time.  The  parley  still  continues,  but  no  one 
will  be  killed. 

I  am  re-reading  (<  Wilhelm  Meister,w  a  strange  book,  in 
which  the  finest  possible  things  alternate  with  the  most 
absurd  childishness.  In  all  that  Goethe  wrote  there  is  a  , 
singular  mingling  of  genius  and  German  silliness  (niaiserie) : 
was  he  laughing  at  others  or  at  himself?  On  my  return  re- 
mind me  to  give  you  "The  Elective  Affinities, w  the  oddest, 
most  anti-French  of  all  his  works.  No  one  reads  at  Ma- 
drid. I  have  asked  myself  how  the  women  pass  their 
time  when  not  making  love,  and  I  find  no  plausible  reply. 
They  are  all  thinking  of  being  empresses.  A  demoiselle  of 
Granada  was  at  the  play  when  it  was  announced  in  her 
box  that  the  Countess  de  Teba  was  to  marry  the  Emperor. 
She  rose  with  impetuosity,  exclaiming  :  (<En  ese  pueblo  no  Sf 
hay  parvenir.  *  * 

The  absorbing  question  here  is,  whether  the  Ministry  will 
remain  in,  or  whether  there  will  be  a  coup  aVStai.  The 
house  in  which  I  reside  is  neutral  ground,  where  the  Min- 
isters and  leaders  of  the  Opposition  meet,  which  is  agree- 
able for  lovers  of  news.  What  is  called  here  society  is 
composed  of  so  small  a  number  of  persons,  that  to  break 
up  into  factions  would  be  fatal.  In  all  public  places  one  is 
sure  of  meeting  the  same  three  hundred  faces,  from  which 
results  a  more  amusing  and  infinitely  less  hypocritical 
society  than  elsewhere. 

It  is  the  custom  here  to  offer   in   return    everything   that 
is  praised.     At  a  recent  dinner  I  sat  next    the    Prime  Min- 
ister's fair  friend,   who  is  as  stupid    as    a    cabbage  and  ex-    I 
cessively  stout.    She  displayed  somewhat  handsome  shoulders, 

*  In  this  country  there  is  no  chance  of  rising. 


192  MERIMEE 

:  on  which  rested  a  garland  with  glass  or  metal   acorns,  and 
not    knowing    what    to    say    to   her,    I    praised    both    beads 
i  and  shoulders,  to  which  she  replied :    <(  Todo  ese  a  la  dispo- 
<    \sicion  de   V» 

Paris,  1854. —  You  will  find  the  Sydenham  Crystal  Pal- 
ace a  vast  Noah's  Ark,  marvelous  as  to  its  collection  of 
curious  objects,  but  regarded  from  an  artistic  standpoint,  per- 
fectly ridiculous  ;  yet  there  is  something  at  once  so  grand 
and  so  simple  in  its  construction  that  one  must  go  to  England 
to  form  a  conception  of  it.  It  is  a  toy  costing  twenty-five 
millions ;  a  cage  in  which  several  churches  might  waltz  ; 
and  to  you  who    are  gourmande,  I    recommend   its   dinners. 

The  last  days  I  passed  in  London  interested  me.  I  met 
socially  all  the  eminent  politicians,  and  was  present  at  the 
debates  on  the  Supplies  in  the  Houses  of  Lords  and  Com- 
mons, in  which  the  most  renowned  orators  spoke,  but  in 
my  opinion  very  abominably.  I  have  brought  a  pair  of 
garters  from  London.  I  do  not  know  with  what  English- 
women keep  up  their  stockings,  nor  how  they  procure  this 
indispensable  article,  but  I  believe  it  to  be  a  very  difficult 
matter  and  very  trying  to  their  virtue.  The  shopman  who 
gave  me  these  garters  blushed  up  to  the  eyes.  All  the 
charming  things  you  say  to  me  would  be  a  delight  if  ex- 
perience had  not  taught  me  to  distrust  you.  I  dare  not 
hope  for  what  I  desire  so  ardently.  There  is  something 
very  painful  in  conforming  to  your  protocols,  which,  in 
point  of  contempt  of  logic  and  probability,  are  worthy  of 
Nesselrode.  I  returned  this  morning  from  Caen.  On  my 
arrival  there  I  proceeded  to  the  hall  of  the  Law  School, 
where  I  found  about  two  hundred  men  and  a  dozen  ladies. 
I  delivered  my  little  discourse  without  the  slightest  emo- 
tion, being  very  civilly  applauded.  The  ceremonies  termi- 
nated with  the  reading  of  some  rather  good  verses  by  a 
humpbacked  dwarf,  immediately  after  which  I  was  con- 
ducted by  the  authorities  to  the  hdtel  de  ville,  where  a  ban- 
quet was  given  in  my  honor,  at  which  excellent  fish  and 
delicious  lobsters  were  enjoyed.  At  last  the  hoped-for  mo- 
ment of  release  came,  when  to  my  dismay  the  President  of 
the    Antiquaries   arose,  every   one    standing,  and   proposing 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  193 

my  health,  referred  to  me  as  remarkable  in  the  three  qual- 
ities of  senator,  a  man  of  letters,  and  a  scientist.  Only  the 
table  separated  us,  and  I  was  much  inclined  to  throw  a 
dish  of  rum  jelly  at  his  head.  When  he  spoke  I  was  med- 
itating my  reply,  with  no  apparent  possibility  of  finding  a 
word.  I  returned  thanks,  however,  in  a  speech  of  five 
minutes,  with  but  a  slight  idea  of  what  I  was  saying, 
which,  however,  I  was  assured  was  very  eloquent.  But  my 
sufferings  were  not  over.  I  was  seized  by  the  mayor  and 
led  to  a  concert  of  the  Philharmonic  Society,  where  I  was 
exhibited  to  a  large  number  of  well  dressed  people,  the 
women  very  fair  and  very  pretty ,  attired  much  like  Par- 
isians except  in  a  less  lavish  display  of  shoulders,  and  in 
wearing  maroon  colored  half  boots  with  their  ball  dress. 

Innspruck,  August,  1854. —  I  am  intoxicated  with  mag- 
nificent landscapes  and  panoramas.  From  Basle  to  Schaff- 
hausen,  on  the  right  hand  and  left,  are  enchanting  moun- 
tains, far  finer  than  those  of  the  lower  Rhine  so  much 
admired  by  Englishwomen.  At  Constance  we  had  capital 
trout  and  heard  Tyroleans  play  on  the  zitther.  Thence 
to  this  place  we  have  traversed  a  region  of  forests,  lakes, 
and  mountains  of  increasing  beauty  and  grandeur,  but  are 
overcome  with  fatigue  such  as  one  experiences  after  exam- 
ining a  fine  picture  gallery.  I  am  recruiting  here  with  de- 
licious woodcock  and  extraordinary  soups.  The  drawback 
of  the  journey  lies  in  an  ignorance  of  the  manners  and 
ideas  of  the  people,  far  more  interesting  to  me  than  all  the 
landscapes.  In  the  Tyrol  the  women  seem  to  be  treated 
according  to  their  merit.  They  are  harnessed  to  wagons 
and  easily  draw  heavy  loads,  are  excessively  ugly,  with 
enormous  feet ;  and  the  ladies  whom  I  met  on  the  railway 
and  boats  are  not  much  better.  They  wear  indecent  bon- 
nets, sky-blue  boots  with  apple-green  gloves.  It  is  in  great 
part  the  above  peculiarities  that  constitute  what  the  natives 
call  gemuth,  and  of  which  they  are  exceedingly  vain.  It 
strikes  me  that  the  radical  deficiency  in  the  works  of 
art  of  this  country  is  that  of  imagination,  upon  which, 
nevertheless,  they  pique  themselves,  falling  consequently 
into  the  most  pretentious  extravagances. 
13 


i94  MERIMEE 

Prague,  September,  1854. —  This  city  is  exceedingly  pic- 
turesque and  there  is  admirable  music.  Yesterday  I  strolled 
through  several  gardens  and  public  concerts,  and  saw  the 
national  dances  performed  decently  and  soberly ;  while 
nothing  can  be  more  captivating  than  a  Bohemian  orchestra. 
The  physique  here  differs  much  from  that  of  Germany ; 
very  large  heads,  broad  shoulders,  very  small  hips,  and  no 
legs  whatever  —  that  is  a  picture  of  Bohemian  beauty.  We 
have  exhausted  our  knowledge  of  anatomy  in  striving  to 
understand  how  these  women  walk.  They  have,  however, 
fine  black  eyes,  very  long  and  fine  black  hair,  but  feet  of 
a  length,  thickness,  and  breadth  to  surprise  travelers  ac- 
customed to  the  most  extraordinary  sights.  Crinoline  is 
unknown.  At  the  public  gardens  in  the  evening  they  drink 
a  bottle  of  beer,  after  which  they  take  a  cup  of  coffee, 
which  disposes  them  to  partake  of  three  veal  cutlets  with 
ham,  the  interstices  being  filled  up  with  some  light  pastry 
cakes  resembling  our  buns.  The  blanket  of  my  bed  of 
various  pretty  colors,  is  one  metre  long,  to  which  is  but- 
toned a  napkin  that  serves  me  for  sheet,  and  when  I  have 
arranged  that  in  equilibrium,  my  servant  places  over  the 
whole  an  eider  down  coverlet  which  I  pass  the  night  in 
throwing  down  and  replacing. 

Vienna,  October,  1854. —  Really,  this  good  city  is  an 
agreeable  place  of  sojourn,  and  it  requires  a  certain  degree 
of  courage  to  leave  it,  now  that  I  have  learned  to  enjoy 
sauntering  about  its  pleasant  places,  and  have  made  many 
friends.  We  are  agitated  by  news  from  the  Crimea.  Is 
Sebastopol  taken  ?  It  is  believed  so  here ;  and  the  Austri- 
ians,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  ancient  families  who  are 
Russian  at  heart,  congratulate  us.  God  grant  that  the 
news  may  not  be  an  invention  such  as  the  telegraph  de- 
lights in  when  at  leisure.  However  it  may  be,  I  think  it 
a  fine  thing  that  our  troops,  six  days  after  landing,  should 
have  pommeled  the  Russians  so  vigorously.  We  enjoy  the 
looks  of  the  Russians  now  here.  Prince  Gortschakoff  says 
that  it  is  an  (<  incident w  that  will  effect  no  change  as  to 
the  principles.  The  Belgian  Minister,  the  wit  of  Vienna, 
says  that  Gortschakoff   is  right  to  intrench    himself   behind 


LETTERS  TO   ANONYMA  195 

principles,  because  they  are  never  taken  with  the  bayonet, 
A  propos  of  wit,  willing  or  unwilling,  I  have  been  made  a 
lion.  Society  here  being  so  gemuthlich,  everything  that  a 
Frenchman  says  is  accepted  as  wit.  I  am  thought  very 
amiable.  I  write  sublime  thoughts  in  albums,  I  make  draw- 
ings, in  a  word  I  have  been  perfectly  ridiculous.  I  passed 
three  days  at  Pesth,  where  my  modesty  suffered  in  being 
shown  a  public  bath,  in  which  Hungarian  men  and  women 
were  together  in  the  hot  mineral  water.  I  saw  one  beauti- 
ful Hungarian  who  hid  her  face  with  her  hands ;  in  this 
unlike  the  Turkish  women,  who  wear  the  chemise  for  that 
purpose.  I  have  heard  Bohemian  musicians  play  very 
original  Hungarian  airs  that  intoxicate  the  natives.  The 
music  begins  lugubriously  and  ends  with  a  mad  gayety 
that  quickly  spreads  to  the  audience,  who  stamp,  break  the 
glasses,  and  dance  on  the  table ;  but  foreigners  are  not  af-  , 
fected  by  these  phenomena.  Magnificent  furs  are  obtained 
here  for  a  trifle  —  the  only  bargains  in  the  country.  I  am 
ruined  by  hack  hire  and  dinner  parties.  The  custom  is  to 
pay  the  domestics  who  serve  the  dinner,  and  the  hall  por- 
ter ;  in  fact  one  pays  at  every  turn. 

London,  July,  1856. —  I  am  about  to  visit  a  real  Scotch 
chieftain,  who  has  never  worn  any  breeches,  has  no  stair- 
case in  his  house,  but  maintains  a  bard  and  a  seer.  I  find 
the  people  here  so  amiable,  so  pressing,  so  monopolizing, 
that  my  arrival  is  evidently  a  relief  to  their  ennui.  Yester- 
day I  saw  two  of  my  former  beauties  ;  the  one  has  become 
asthmatic,  the  other  a  Methodist.  I  have  also  made  the 
acquaintance  of  eight  or  ten  poets,  who  struck  me  as 
rather  more  ridiculous  even  than  our  own. 

Edinburgh. —  I  have  passed  three  days  at  the  Duke  of 
Hamilton's,  in  an  immense  castle,  and  a  very  fine  country. 
At  no  great  distance  is  a  herd  of  wild  oxen,  said  to  be  the 
only  ones  now  remaining  in  Europe,  but  which  appeared  to 
me  as  tame  as  the  deer  at  Paris.  Throughout  this  castle 
are  pictures  by  the  great  masters,  magnificent  Greek  and 
Chinese  vases,  and  richly  bound  books  from  the  greatest 
collections  of  the  last  century.     All  this  is  arranged  without 


i96  m£rim£e 

taste,  and  one  sees  that  it  affords  the  proprietor  but  small 
enjoyment.  I  now  understand  why  the  French  are  so  much 
in  request  in  foreign  countries ;  they  take  pains  to  be  amused, 
and  in  so  doing  amuse  others.  I  found  myself  the  most 
entertaining  person  of  the  very  numerous  society  assembled, 
and  was  at  the  same  time  conscious  of  being  rather  the  re- 
verse. I  find  Edinburgh  altogether  to  my  taste  with  the 
exception  of  the  execrable  architecture  of  the  monuments, 
the  claim  of  which  to  be  Greek  is  about  as  well  founded 
as  an  Englishwoman's  pretension  to  be  a  Parisian  because 
her  toilets  are  prepared  by  Madame  Vignon.  The  accent 
of  the  natives  is  odious  to  me.  The  women,  as  a  rule,  are 
very  ugly.  The  country  necessitates  short  skirts,  and  they 
conform  to  the  fashion  and  to  the  exigencies  of  the  climate, 
by  holding  up  their  gown  with  both  hands,  a  foot  above 
the  petticoat,  displaying  sinewy  legs  and  half-boots  of  rhi- 
noceros leather,  with  feet  to  match.  I  am  shocked  at  the 
proportion  of  red-haired   women  whom  I  meet. 

August,  1856,  at  a  country  house  near  Glasgow. —  I  lead  a 
pleasant  life,  going  from  chdteau  to  chdteau,  and  every- 
where entertained  with  a  hospitality  for  which  I  despair  of 
finding  adequate  expression,  and  which  is  only  practicable 
in  this  aristocratic  country.  I  am  contracting  bad  habits. 
The  guest  here  of  poor  people  who  have  little  more  than 
thirty  thousand  pounds  a  year,  I  have  thought  myself  not 
sufficiently  honored  because  of  dining  without  wind  instru- 
ments and  a  piper  in  grand  costume. 

At  the  Marquis  of  Breadalbane's  I  passed  three  days  in 
driving  about  the  park.  There  are  about  two  thousand 
deer,  besides  eight  or  ten  thousand  in  his  forests  not  ad- 
jacent to  the  castle.  There  are  also,  for  the  sake  of  singu- 
larity, at  which  every  one  aims  here,  a  herd  of  American 
buffaloes,  very  fierce,  inclosed  in  a  peninsula,  and  which  one 
goes  to  look  at  through  the  palings.  Every  one  there,  Mar- 
quis and  buffalo,  had  the  air  of  being  bored.  I  believe  that 
their  pleasure  consists  in  making  people  envious,  and  I  doubt 
whether  this  compensates  for  the  pother  of  playing  innkeeper 
to  all  sorts  of  people.  Amid  all  this  luxury,  I  observe,  from 
time  to  time,  bits  of  stinginess  which  amuse  me. 


LETTERS  TO   ANONYMA  197 

Kinloch-Linchard,  August,  1856. —  I  begin  to  be  sati- 
ated with  grouse  and  venison.  The  truly  remarkable 
scenery  has  still  a  charm  for  me,  but  my  curiosity  is  satis- 
fied. What  I  am  not  weary  of  admiring  is,  the  bristling 
attitude  the  people  here  maintain  :  being  chained  together  at 
the  galleys  even  would  not  make  them  more  sociable.  This 
arises  from  their  fear  of  being  "caught  in  the  act  of  being 
stupid, w  as  Beyle  says,  or  rather  an  organization  that  in- 
clines fnem  to  prefer  selfish  pleasures.  We  arrived  here  at 
the  same  time  with  two  gentlemen  and  a  middle-aged  woman 
accustomed  to  high  society,  and  who  had  traveled.  At  din- 
ner the  thick  ice  necessarily  thawed  ;  but  in  the  evening 
the  husband  took  up  a  newspaper,  the  wife  a  book,  the 
other  gentleman  began  to  write  letters,  while  I  was  left  to 
play  a  single-handed  game  against  my  hosts.  I  am  told 
that  the  Celtic  race  (who  live  in  frightful  holes  near  the 
palace  in  which  I  am  a  guest)  know  how  to  talk.  The 
fact  is,  I  fancy,  that  on  market  day  a  continual  noise  of 
animated  voices,  laughter  and  shouts,  is  heard.  Gaelic  is 
very  soft.  In  England  and  the  Lowlands,  complete  si- 
lence. 

CarabaciSIv,  December,  1856. —  I  have  been  besieged  by 
Russian  and  English  cards,  and  have  been  offered  a  presen- 
tation to  the  Grand  Duchess  Helen,  an  honor  that  I  point- 
edly declined.  To  furnish  us  with  gossip  we  have  a  Countess 
Apraxine,  who  smokes,  wears  round  hats,  and  keeps 
a  goat  in  her  salon,  which  she  has  strewn  with  grass.  But 
the  most  amusing  person  is  Lady  Shelley  who  commits 
some  fresh  drollery  every  day.     Yesterday  she  wrote  to  the 

French  Consul :  (<  Lady    S informs   M.  P that    she 

has  a  charming  dinner  party  of  English   people  to-day,  and    ,,, 
she  will  be  delighted  to  see  him    afterward,  at  five  minutes 
past  nine  o'clock. w     She  wrote  to    Madame  Vigier,  ex-Mad- 
emoiselle Cruvelli  :   (<  Lady  Shelley  would  be  charmed  to  see 
Madame  Vigier  if  she' would  be    good    enough  to  bring  her  Y 
music  with    her. w     To    which    the   ex-Cruvelli    immediately 
replied :  <(  Madame  Vigier  would    be    charmed    to    see    Lady 
Shelley,  if  she  would  be  good  enough  to  come  to  her  house    / 
and  behave  as  a  lady. w 


198  MERIMEE 

London,  British  Museum,  1858. —  You  can  form  no  con- 
ception of  the  beauty  of  the  Museum  on  Sunday  when  there 
is  no  one  present  except  M.  Panizzi  and  myself;  it  seems 
to  be  permeated  by  a  marvelous  atmosphere  of  thought. 
Last  Wednesday  I  fell  into  rather  a  droll  scrape.  I  was 
invited  to  the  Literary  Fund  dinner  presided  over  by  Lord 
Palmerston,  and  at  the  moment  of  setting  out  was  notified 
that  I  should  be  expected  to  make  a  speech,  as  my  name 
would  be  associated  with  a  toast  to  the  literature  of  Con- 
tinental Europe.  I  was  victimized  with  a  satisfaction  that 
you  may  imagine,  and  during  fifteen  minutes  uttered  non- 
sense in  bad  English  before  an  assemblage  of  three  hundred 
literary  men,  and  a  hundred  women  admitted  to  the  honor 
of  seeing  us  eat  stringy  chickens  and  tough  tongue.  I  have 
never  been  so  saturated  with  foolishness,  as  Pourceaugnac 
says. 

Yesterday  I  received  a  visit  from  a  gentleman  and  wife 
who  brought  me  a  number  of  autograph  letters  from  Na- 
poleon to  Josephine,  which  they  wished  to  sell.  They  are 
exceedingly  curious  in  the  fact  of  touching  on  nothing  but 
love,  and  are  doubtless  authentic ;  but  it  is  difficult  to 
understand  why  Josephine  did  not  burn  them  as  soon  as 
read. 

Palace  of  Fontainebleau,  May,  1858. —  I  am  excess- 
ively annoyed  and  half  poisoned  from  having  taken  too 
much  laudanum ;  in  addition  to  which  I  have  written  verses 
for  His  Majesty  of  the  Netherlands,  played  charades,  and 
"  made  a  fool  of  myself  *  generally.  Shall  I  describe  the 
life  we  lead  here?  Yesterday  we  took  a  stag  and  dined  on 
the  grass  ;  the  other  day  we  were  all  drenched  with  rain  ; 
every  day  we  eat  too  much,  and  I  am  completely  exhausted. 
Destiny  did  not  fashion  me  for  a  courtier.  I  shall  try  to 
snatch  a  little  sleep  while  awaiting  the  fatal  hour  of  get- 
ting under  arms,  which  is  to  say,  donning  tights.  How 
much  I  should  prefer  to  stroll  through  this  fine  forest 
with  you,  chatting  of  fairy-land.  I  am  exceedingly  vexed 
with  your  ridiculous  prudery.  The  book  in  question  has 
the  misfortune  to  be  badly  written,  that  is  to  say,  in  an 
enthusiastic    tone    that    Sainte-Beuve    extols    as    poetic,    so 


LETTERS   TO    ANONYMA  199 

much  do  tastes  differ.  One  does  not,  when  possessed  of 
your  taste,  exclaim  that  it  is  frightful,  immoral,  but  finds  all 
that  is  good  in  the  volume  very  good.  You  allow  your 
prejudice  to  sway  your  judgment,  and  each  day  you  grow 
more  prudish,  more  in  consonance  with  the  affectation  of 
the  age.     Your  crinoline  I  overlook,  but  not  your  prudery. 

Venice,  August,  1858. —  Venice  filled  me  with  sadness.  I 
have  been  moved  to  indignation  by  all  the  commonplaces 
uttered  of  the  architecture  of  the  palaces,  which  is  effective, 
but  destitute  of  taste  and  imagination.  The  canals  resemble 
the  Bievre,  and  the  gondola  an  inconvenient  hearse.  The 
pictures  of  the  second-rate  masters  at  the  Academy  pleased 
me ;  but  there  is  not  a  Paul  Veronese  worth  <(  The  Marriage 
of  Cana,"  not  a  Titian  to  be  compared  with  <(  Christ  with 
the  Tribute  Money  *  at  Dresden,  or  even  (<  The  Crown  of 
Thorns  *  at  Paris.  On  the  other  hand,  I  am  pleased  with 
the  physiognomy  of  the  people.  The  streets  swarm  with 
charming  girls  with  bare  feet  and  head,  who,  if  bathed  and 
scrubbed,  would  serve  as  models  for  the  Venus  Anadyo- 
mene.  I  was  present  at  an  amusing  funzione  in  honor  of 
the  Archduke.  A  serenade  was  given,  six  hundred  gon- 
dolas following  the  colossal  boat  that  carried  the  music,  all 
bearing  lanterns  and  burning  red  and  blue  Bengal  lights, 
which  touched  the  palaces  on  the  grand  canal  with  a  magical 
tint.  In  passing  the  Rialto  no  gondola  would  draw  back,  nor 
give  way,  so  that  the  mass  formed  a  solid  bridge,  and  at  every 
moment  was  heard  the  crash  of  collision  and  breaking  oars  ; 
but  an  observable  feature  was,  that  amid  all  the  excitement 
of  the  throng,  which  in  France  would  have  led  to  a  general 
battle,  no  abusive  language  was  heard,  not  even  a  cross 
word.  These  people  are  made  of  milk  and  maize.  To-day  I 
saw  a  monk,  in  the  middle  of  St.  Mark's  Square,  fall  on 
his  knees  before  an  Austrian  corporal  about  to  arrest  him. 
There  was  never  anything  more  pitiable,  and  in  front  of  the 
lion  of  St.   Mark  ! 

In  a  pretty  villa  on  the  banks  of  Lake  Como  I  saw 
Madame  Pasta,  whom  I  had  not  met  since  her  palmy  days 
at  the  Italian  Opera.  She  has  singularly  increased  in  size, 
cultivates    cabbages,  and     says    that     she    is    as    happy    as 


200  MERIMEE 

when  crowns  and  sonnets  showered  on  her.  We  discussed 
the  theatre,  music,  and  she  remarked,  justly,  that  since 
Rossini,  no  opera  had  been  composed  in  which  there  was 
unity  of  thought  and  treatment. 

Chateau  de  Compiegne,  November,  1858.  —  This  morn- 
ing I  saw  my  friend  Sandeau  in  the  frame  of  mind  natural 
to  one  who  has  appeared  in  knee-breeches  the  first  time. 
He  asked  me  a  hundred  questions  with  a  naiveti  that 
alarmed  me.  We  have  had  great  men  from  over  the  Chan- 
nel, Russians  and  the  Ministers,  but  the  greater  part  of  the 
guests  took  their  departure  yesterday,  and  we  are  left  en 
petit  comiti,  that  is  to  say,  we  are  but  thirty  or  forty  at 
table.  One  cannot  sleep  in  this  place.  The  time  is  passed 
in  being  frozen  or  roasting,  and  this  has  given  me  an  irri- 
tation of  the  chest  that  exhausts  me.  But  it  is  impossible 
to  imagine  a  more  amiable  host  or  a  more  gracious  hostess. 
When  I  think  that  I  could  have  seen  you  to-day  in  Paris, 
I  am  tempted  to  fly  from  here ;  and  also  to  hang  myself 
at  your  resignation  :  a  virtue  that  I  do  not  possess,  and 
which  enrages  me  in  others.  Nothing  is  easier  here  than 
to  absent  one's  self  from  breakfast,  or  the  morning  walk, 
but  dinner  is  the  momentous  ceremony  ;  and  when  I  spoke 
to  the  old  courtiers  of  my  intention  to  dine  in  town,  they 
frowned  in  such  evident  consternation  that  I  saw  it  must 
not  be  thought  of. 

Cannes,  January,  1859.  —  There  are  great  numbers  of 
English  here.  I  dined  yesterday  with  Lord  Brougham  and 
I  know  not  how  many  Misses  freshly  arrived  from  Scot- 
land, whom  the  sight  of  the  sun  appeared  greatly  to  surprise. 
Had  I  the  talent  to  describe  costumes,  I  could  amuse  you 
with  those  of  these  ladies  ;  you  have  never  seen  anything 
to  parallel  it  since  the  invention  of  crinoline. 

I  have  just  read  the  (<  Memoirs  of  Catherine  II.,*  which 
presents  a  strange  picture  of  the  people  and  courts  of  that 
period.  Catherine  on  her  marriage  with  the  Grand  Duke, 
afterward  Peter  III.,  had  a  quantity  of  diamonds  and 
superb  brocaded  robes,  and  for  her  lodgings  a  chamber  that 
served  as  a  passageway  for   her  women,  who,  to    the    num- 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  201 

ber  of  seventeen,  slept  in  a  single  room  next  that  of  the 
queen.  There  is  not  to-day  a  grocer's  wife  who  does  not 
live  more  comfortably  than  the  empresses  of  a  hundred 
years  ago.  Catherine  gives  us  sufficient  strong  reasons  for 
believing  Paul  I.  to  be  the  son  of  Prince  Soltikoff ;  and  the 
curious  thing  is,  that  the  manuscript  in  which  she  narrates 
these  fine  histories  was  addressed  to  her  son,  this  same 
Paul,  an  animal  for  whom  strangling  was  the  best  mode  of 
suppression.  I  am  glad  that  my  critique  on  Mr.  Prescott 
has  pleased  you.  I  am  not  altogether  satisfied  with  it  as 
I  only  expressed  half  of  what  I  should  like  to  say,  acting 
on  the  aphorism  of  Philip  II.:  that  one  must  say  only 
good  of  the  dead.  In  fact,  the  work  is  only  of  slight 
interest,  and  not  above  mediocrity.  It  strikes  me  that  had 
the  author  been  less  Yankee,  he  could  have  done  some- s 
thing  better.  We  have  marvelous  moonlight,  the  sea  like 
glass,  and  the  heat  of  June.  I  am  more  and  more  con- 
vinced that  heat  is  my  great  restorative.  When  it  rains  I 
have  horrible  spasms :  as  soon  as  the  sun  returns  Richard 
is  himself  again.  Cannes  is  becoming  too  civilized  :  one  of 
the  loveliest  walks  is  to  be  destroyed  for  the  railway  ;  we 
shall  become  the  prey  of  Marseilles,  and  the  picturesque 
will  be  lost. 

Paris,  April,  1859.  — The  war  in  Italy  will  be  sharp,  but 
not  long  ;  the  financial  state  of  the  world  could  not  allow 
it ;  and  after  the  first  shock  I  hope  that  England  will 
intervene.  Austria  has  no  money,  and  many  persons  be- 
lieve her  motive  to  be  simply  a  pretext  for  declaring  her 
bankruptcy.  Our  people  are  warlike  and  confident,  the 
soldiers  gay  and  sanguine.  There  is  an  enthusiasm,  a 
buoyancy  in  our  army,  in  which  the  Austrians  are  totally 
deficient.  Little  of  an  optimist  as  I  may  be,  I  have  full 
faith  in  our  success.  Our  reputation  is  so  well  established 
that  those  who  fight  against  us  enter  into  it  with  little 
heart.  A  Russian  alliance  is  still  spoken  of,  in  which  I  have  ' 
no  faith,  for  Russia  has  nothing  to  lose  in  the  quarrel,  and 
however  it  may  terminate  she  will  find  it  to  be  to  her  ad- 
vantage :  meanwhile  she  amuses  herself  with  panslavist  | 
intrigues    among    the    Austrian    subjects,    who    regard    the 


? 


202  MERIMEE 

Emperor  Alexander  as  their  Pope.  The  Austrians  are  said  to 
wear  a  modest,  somewhat  shamefaced  air.  The  mass  of  our 
people  are  intensely  interested  and  offer  vows  for  success. 
The  salons,  especially  those  of  the  Orleanists,  are  perfectly 
an ti- French  and  arch  fools,  who  imagine  that  they  will 
float  back  with  the  tide,  and  that  their  burgraves  will  re- 
sume the  thread  of  their  discourse  that  was  snapped  in 
1848.  Poor  people !  who  do  not  understand  that  after  this 
will  come  division,  a  republic,  and  anarchy.  Germany  is 
bawling  against  us ;  a  mere  jet  of  underlying  red  liberalism 
which  just  now  assumes  the  Teutonic  form.  Russia  is  a 
terrible  ally  who  would  devour  Germany,  but  who  would 
gain  for  us  England's  ill-will,  and  perhaps  hostility.  We 
have  so  long  led  a  sybaritic  life  as  to  ignore  the  emotions 
of  our  fathers  ;  but  we  must  now  return  to  their  philosophy. 
Our  troops,  rest  assured,  will  be  well  taken  care  of,  and 
will  eat  macaroni  stupendi  while  the  Austrians  will  some- 
times find  verdigris  in  their  soup.  Were  I  a  young  man, 
'  an  Italian  campaign  would  be  to  me  the  most  attractive 
way  of  seeing  a  spectacle  always  noble  —  the  awaking  of  an 
oppressed  people. 

f  Paris,  May,  1859.  —  Germany  is  still  fermenting,  which 
will  result,  aparently,  rather  in  beer  drinking  than  in  blood 
shedding.  Prussia  resists  to  her  utmost  the  pressure  of  the 
Franzosenfresser,  and  proclaims  her  intention  to  retake  not 
only  Alsace,  but  also  the  German  provinces  of  Russia.  This 
last  jest  would  indicate  that  this  Teutonic  enthusiasm  is  nei- 
ther serious  nor  well-considered.  M.  Yvan  Tourguenieff, 
who  comes  direct  from  Moscow,  says  that  all  Russia  is 
offering  prayers  for  us,  and  that  the  army  would  be  de- 
lighted to  have  a  brush  with  the  Austrians,  whom,  the 
priests  are  preaching,  God  will  punish  for  their  persecution 
of  the  orthodox  Greeks  of  Sclavonic  race ;  and  subscriptions 
are  open  to  send  Sclavonic  Bibles  and  tracts  to  the  Croats 
to  preserve  them  from  papal  heresy.  This  looks  very  like 
a  political  propaganda  of  panslavism. 

A  strong  attack  is  now  being  organized  against  the  Derby 
Ministry.  Lord  Palmerston  and  Lord  John  would  be  recon- 
ciled —  rather  an  improbable  event  —  or  still  more    unlikely 


•^ 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  203 

would  unite  for  the  destruction  of  the  present  Cabinet. 
The  radicals  will  support  them.  Whatever  may  be  the 
issue,  we  shall  gain  little  by  the  change.  Lord  Pal- 
merston,  though  the  main  promoter  of  the  Italian  agitation, 
would  no  more  uphold  it  than  would  Lord  Derby,  only  he 
would  treat  Austria  with  less  consideration  and  would  not 
seek  to  embarrass  us.  The  wiseacres  announce  that  all 
Europe  will  intervene :  not  improbable ;  but  after  the  fa- 
mous phrase  Sin  all '  Adriatico,  how  can  we  leave  Italy  only 
half-delivered?  How  hope  that  a  young  emperor,  suckled 
and  governed  by  the  Jesuits,  beaten  and  in  a  bad  humor, 
should  confess  his  folly  and  ask  pardon  !  Would  not  the 
Italians,  who  until  now  have  been  circumspect,  be  goaded 
into  every  imaginable  imprudence  pending  the  negotia- 
tions ? 

Paris,  July,  1859.  — You  alone  reconcile  me  to  the  Peace. 
Perhaps  it  was  necessary  ;  but  on  the  whole  what  matters 
to  us  the  liberty  of  a  parcel  of  smokers  and  musicians? 
We  heard  this  evening  the  Emperor's  speech,  which  was 
well  delivered,  with  a  grand  air,  an  air  of  frankness  and 
good  faith  :  there  is  sense  and  truth  in  it.  The  returning 
officers  say  that  the  Italians  are  brawlers  and  cowards ; 
that  only  the  Piedmontese  can  fight,  who,  however,  pretend 
that  we  were  in  their  way,  and  that  without  us  they  could 
have  done  better.  The  Empress  asked  me  in  Spanish  what 
I  thought  of  the  speech  ;  to  which  I  replied,  combining 
candor  with  courtesy  :   <(  Muy  necesario* 

Paris,  1859. —  I  am  reading  the  "Letters  of  Madame  du 
Deffand."  They  are  very  amusing,  giving  an  excellent 
picture  of  the  society  of  her  day,  which  was  very  amiable  . 
and  somewhat  frivolous.  A  striking  contrast  to  the  present 
era  is  manifest  in  their  general  and  earnest  endeavor  to 
please ;  as  also  in  the  sincerity  and  fidelity  of  their  affec- 
tions. They  were  more  obliging  people  than  ourselves,  and 
especially  than  you,  whom  I  no  longer  love. 

Paris,  September,  1859.  —  The  other  day  I  met  Edmond 
About,  who    is    always   charming.     He    resides    at    Saverne 


204  MERIMEE 

and  passes  his  life  in  the  woods,  where  a  month  ago  he 
encountered  a  singular  animal  walking  on  all  fours,  wear- 
ing a  black  coat  and  varnished  boots  without  soles.  It 
proved  to  be  a  professor  from  Angouleme,  who  had  been 
driven  to  the  Baden  gambling  table  by  conjugal  unhappi- 
ness,  where  he  lost  everything.  Returning  to  France  through 
the  forests  he  missed  his  way  and  had  eaten  nothing  for 
eight  days.  About  carried  and  dragged  him  to  a  village 
where  he  was  supplied  with  linen  and  food,  but  he  sur- 
vived only  a  short  time.  When  the  man-animal  lives  in 
solitude  for  a  certain  period,  and  reaches  a  certain  state  of 
physical  dilapidation,  it  appears  that  he  walks  on  all  fours. 
About  assures  me  that  this  chef-d?  ceuvre  makes  a  very  ugly 
animal. 

You  are  growing  stout  and  brown  with  the  sun :  but 
however  you  may  be,  fat  or  thin,  I  shall  love  you  always 
tenderly.  I  have  frightful  spasms,  am  still  ill,  and  suspect 
that  I  am  on  the  great  railway  leading  beyond  the  tomb. 
At  some  moments  this  thought  is  painful,  at  others  I  find 
the  consolation  that  one  experiences  on  the  railway — the 
absence  of  responsibility  in  the  presence  of  a  superior  and 
irresistible  power. 

Paris,  September  15,  1859. —  I  was  summoned  from 
Tarbes  by  lettei  to  Saint-Sauveur  to  pass  the  day,  my 
visit  being  returned  by  their  majesties ;  which  occasioned  a 
great  disturbance  in  M.  Fould's  household,  Madame  Fould 
improvising  a  dinner  and  breakfast,  taxing  to  the  utmost 
the  resources  of  the  little  village.  Their  majesties  were  in 
excellent  health  and  capital  spirits  at  Saint-Sauveur,  and  I 
admired  the  natives,  who  had  the  good  taste  to  leave  them 
entirely  to  themselves.  The  Emperor  has  bought  a  dog 
rather  larger  than  a  donkey,  of  the  ancient  Pyrenean  breed  : 
a  magnificent  brute  which  climbs  rocks  like  a  chamois. 

Madrid,  October,  1859. —  Everything  here  is  changed. 
The  ladies  whom  I  left  as  thin  as  spindles  have  become 
elephants,  the  climate  of  Madrid  having  a  very  fattening 
quality.  Not  only  the  manners,  but  the  picturesque  aspect 
of   old   Spain   are   notably  altered   by  politics  and   a  parlia- 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  205 

inentary  government.  At  this  moment  nothing  is  discussed 
but  war,  the  question  of  avenging  the  national  honor  ex- 
citing a  general  enthusiasm  that  recalls  the  Crusades.  It 
is  imagined  that  the  English  view  the  African  expedition 
with  displeasure  and  even  wish  to  prevent  it,  which  re- 
doubles the  warlike  ardor.  The  army  wish  to  lay  siege  to 
Gibraltar,  after  taking  Tangiers  ! 

Cannes,  i860. —  Baron  Bunsen  is  here  with  his  two 
daughters,  both  mountecT~oh  crane's  feet,  with  ankles  re- 
sembling the  club  of  Hercules ;  one  of  the  young  ladies, 
however,  sings  very  well.  Bunsen  is  clever  enough  and 
knows  the  news,  of   which    you  keep   me   but   ill-informed. 

I  have  read  the  pamphlet   by  Abbe  ,  which    strikes  me 

as  even  more  clumsy  than  violent.  He  must  be  thought 
an  enfant  terrible  at  Rome,  where  neither  good  sense  nor 
finesse  is  lacking,  and  where  the  priests  are  skillful  intrigu- 
ers. Ours  have  the  national  blustering  instinct,  and  are 
devoid  of  tact. 

Here  is  a  nice  little  incident  characteristic  of  this  region. 
A  farmer  in  the  neighborhood  of  Grasse  is  found  dead  in 
a  ravine  where  he  had  fallen  or  been  thrown  during  the 
night.  Another  farmer  comes  to  see  a  friend  and  tells  him 
that  he  has  killed  the  man.  (<How?  and  why?w  *  Be- 
cause he  cast  a  spell  over  my  sheep ;  then  I  asked  the  >/ 
advice  of  my  shepherd,  who  gave  me  three  needles  to  boil 
in  a  pot,  over  which  I  pronounced  the  words  he  taught 
me.  The  same  night  that  I  put  the  pot  on  the  fire  the 
man  died.**  Do  not  be  surprised  should  my  books  be 
burned  in  the  church  square  at  Grasse. 

The  recent  brochure  by  my  colleague  Villemain,  is  singu- 
larly vapid.  When  one  has  attempted  to  write  a  book 
against  the  Jesuits,  and  has  boasted  of  being  the  defender 
of  liberty  of  conscience  against  the  omnipotence  of  the 
Church,  it  is  droll  to  hurl  forth  a  recantation  and  to  sup- 
port it  by  such  feeble  argument.  I  believe  that  every  one 
has  gone  mad,  except  the  Emperor,  who  reminds  one  of 
the  shepherds  of  the  Middle  Ages  whose  magic  flute  in- 
spired the  wolves  to  dance.  I  am  seriously  told  that  the 
French  Academy,  which  has  been  markedly  Voltairean  these 


206  MERIMEE 

few  years  past,  wishes  to  nominate  Abbe"  Lacordaire  as  a 
protest  against  the  violence  to  which  the  Pope  is  subjected. 
The  matter  is  really  one  of  perfect  indifference  to  me.  So 
long  as  I  shall  not  be  compelled  to  listen  to  their  sermons, 
all  the  members  of  the  Sacred  College  may  be  nominated 
to  the  Academy. 

I  have  been  on  a  little  excursion  in  the  region  of  eternal 
snow,  where  I  saw  fine  rocks,  cascades,  and  precipices,  and 
a  great  subterranean  cavern  of  unknown  extent,  supposed 
to  be  inhabited  by  all  the  gnomes  and  devils  of  the  Alps. 
In  fact,  I  passed  a  week  in  the  enjoyment  of  pure  nature 
and  lumbago.  We  have  here  a  Siberian  wind,  and  this 
morning  some  snow-flakes  fell  before  my  window ;  an  un- 
heard-of scandal  in  the  memory  of  the  oldest  inhabitant  of 
Cannes.  I  am  ill,  melancholy,  wearied.  My  sight  is  fail- 
ing and  I  can  no  longer  sketch.  What  a  sad  thing  is  this 
growing  old  !  Bulwer's  novel,  (<  What  will  He  do  with  It?* 
appears  to  me  senile  to  the  last  degree  ;  nevertheless  it 
contains  some  pretty  scenes  and  has  a  very  good  moral. 
As  to  the  hero  and  heroine,  they  transcend  in  silliness 
the  limits  of  romance.  A  book  that  has  amused  me  is  a 
work  by  M.  de  Bunsen  on  the  origin  of  Christianity  and 
on  everything,  to  speak  more  exactly ;  but  it  styles  it- 
self :  "Christianity  and  Mankind. •  M.  de  Bunsen,  though 
calling  himself  a  Christian,  has  little  respect  for  the  Old 
s  and  New  Testaments. 

Paris,  May,  i860.— The  ball  at  the  H6tel  d'Albe  was 
superb ;  the  costumes  were  very  fine,  many  of  the  women 
very  pretty,  and  typifying  the  audacity  of  the  age  being 
dicolleties  in  the  most  outrageous  fashion  both  as  to  skirt 
and  waist.  During  the  waltz  I  saw  a  number  of  charming 
feet  and  many  garters.  Crinoline  is  declining.  Be  assured 
that  within  two  years  dresses  will  be  worn  very  short,  and 
the  natural  advantages  of  those  so  fortunate  as  to  possess 
them  will  be  distinguished  from  artificial  charms.  Some  of 
the  Englishwomen  passed  belief.     The  captivating  daughter 

of   Lord  represented    a    Dryad,  or    some    mythological 

personage,  in  a   dress   that  would    have  left  the  entire  bust 
exposed  but  for  the  semi-veil  of  a   sort  of  swaddling  band. 


LETTERS   TO  ANONYMA  207 

It  was  nearly  as  conspicuous  as  the  scanty  drapery  of  the 
Mamma.  The  ballet  of  the  Elements  was  danced  by  six- 
teen quite  pretty  women  in  short  petticoats  and  covered 
with  diamonds.  The  Naiads  were  powdered  with  silver, 
which,  falling  on  their  shoulders,  resembled  drops  of  water. 

The  Salamanders  were  powdered  with  gold ;  one  among 
them,  Mademoiselle  Errazu,  being  wondrously  beautiful. 
The  Princess  Mathilde,  painted  a  deep  bistre,  personated  a 
Nubian,  and  was  much  too  exact  in  costume.    In  the  midst 

of  the  ball,  a  domino  embraced  Madame  S ,  who  uttered 

loud  screams.  The  dining-room  with  its  surrounding  gal- 
lery, the  servants  in  their  dresses  as  pages  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  the  electric  light,  recalled  Martin's  picture  of 
Belshazzar's  Feast.  The  Emperor  changed  his  domino  in 
vain ;  he  would  have  been  recognized  at  a  league  distant. 
The  Empress  wore  a  white  bournous  and  black  velvet 
mask,  which  did  not  disguise  her  in  the  least.     There  were 

many  foolish  dominos ;    the    Due   de  walking  about  as 

a  tree, —  an  excellent  imitation.  At  the  ball  given  by  M. 
Aligre,  a  wife  was  pinched  black  and  blue  by  her  ferocious 
husband.  The  wife  screamed  and  fainted ;  general  tabeau  ! 
The  jealous  idiot  was  not  thrown  out  of  the  window,  which 
would  have  been  the  only  sensible  thing  to  do.  At  a  re- 
cent masked  ball  a  lady  had  the  temerity  to  appear  in  a 
costume  of  1806,  without  crinoline,  which  produced  a  great 
sensation.  These  are  fine  commentaries  on  the  times  and 
women. 

An  amusing  incident  occurred  lately.  M.  Boitelle,  Pre- 
fect of  Police,  who  should  certainly  be  the  best  informed 
man  in  Paris,  learned  through  the  reports  of  faithful 
agents  that  M.  Fould,  the  Minister  of  State,  had  gone  to 
sleep  in  his  newly-built  house  in  the  Faubourg  Saint- 
Honor6.  Very  early  in  the  morning  the  Prefect  appeared, 
pressed  the  Minister's  hand  very  demonstratively,  explain- 
ing the  important  part  he  had  taken  in  what  had  just  oc- 
curred. M.  Fould  thought  that  he  referred  to  his  son, 
who  is  committing  follies  in  England.  This  quid  pro  quo 
lasted  until  the  Prefect  asked  permission  to  know  the  name 
of  his  successor  in  the  Cabinet,  to  which  M.  Fould  replied, 
that  he  had  come  to   his  new  residence   merely  as  a  house- 


2o8  MERIMEE 

warming,  and  had  found  it   more    convenient  to  sleep  there 
than  at  the  Ministerial  palace. 

It  appears  that  Lamoriciere  is  already  somewhat  weary  of 
the  imbroglio  that  greets  him  in  the  papal  territory.  Car- 
dinal Antonelli  remarked  a  short  time  ago  to  a  foreign 
minister,  that  he  had  never  met  a  man  of  more  compre- 
hensive mind  than  Lamoriciere.  (<  I  have  discussed  the 
intricate  situation  of  affairs  with  him,  for  which  he  imme- 
diately suggested  five  or  six  remedies ;  and  he  talks  so 
well,  that  within  the  hour  he  gave  me  four  different 
opinions  on  the  same  question,  all  so  strongly  fortified  that 
•  I  am  perplexed  as  to  a  choice. *  Every  one  here  is  pre- 
occupied by  Garibaldi's  expedition,  which  will,  it  is  feared, 
result  in  a  general  complication.  Should  he  break  his  back 
in  Sicily,  I  think  that  perhaps  M.  de  Cavour  would  not  be 
too  much  distressed,  but  if  he  succeed,  he  will  become  ten 
times  more  dangerous. 

Read  Granier  de  Cassagnac's  book  on  the  Girondins. 
Portions  of  it  are  exceedingly  curious,  and  it  presents  a 
horrible  picture  of  the  massacres  and  revolutionary  atroc- 
ities :  all  written  with  much  fire  and  vigor.  Three  days 
ago  I  received  a  visit  from  M.  Feydeau,  who  is  a  very 
fine  fellow,  but  artlessly  betrays  an  extreme  vanity.  He  is 
going  to  Spain  to  complement  what  Cervantes  and  Lesage 
have  merely  outlined !  He  has  still  thirty  romances  to 
write,  the  scene  of  which  will  be  laid  in  thirty  different 
countries ;  this  is  why  he  travels.  I  think  of  you  inces- 
santly in  spite  of  your  faults. 

Paris,  July,  i860. —  The  funeral  of  Prince  Jerome  was  a 
terrible  ceremony.  I  do  not  know  how  many  vacancies  it 
has  created  in  our  ranks,  but  fear  that  only  the  under- 
takers have  profited  by  it.  More  than  thirty  thousand 
persons  came  to  sprinkle  holy  water,  which  shows  the 
flunkyism  of  this  high-minded  nation  !  It  is  even  more 
senseless  than  is  supposed,  and  that  is  saying  much.  You 
lost  a  fine  spectacle,  that  of  seeing  me  in  fiocchi  and  black 
gloves,  pass  through  the  Rue  de  Rivoli  amid  the  admiring 
populace.  We  were  one  hour  and  three  quarters  in  defil- 
ing between  the  Palais  Royal  and  the  Invalides,  then  came 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  209 

the  mass,  then  the  funeral  oration  by  Abb6  Coeur,  who 
praised  the  principles  of  '89,  while  declaring  our  soldiers  to 
be  ready  to  die  in  defense  of  the  Pope.  He  also  said  that 
the  first  Napoleon  had  no  love  for  war,  but  was  always 
forced  to  the  defensive.  The  finest  part  of  the  ceremony 
was  a  De  profundis  chanted  in  the  vault,  and  which  we 
heard  through  black  crape  that  separated  us  from  the 
grave.  Were  I  a  musician  I  would  profit  in  opera  by  the 
admirable  effect  of  this  crape  in  modifying  sound. 

The  Orleanists  pretend  that  M.  Brenier  has  been  knocked 
in  the  head  by  an  uncivil  husband  ;  but  the  more  credible 
rumor  is  that  the  lazzaroni  have  thus  sought  to  avenge  the 
violence  offered  to  their  king.  The  liberals,  in  retaliation, 
have  assassinated  the  police,  which  has  been  of  much 
benefit  to  M.  Brenier.  The  northern  Italians  have  not  the 
quick  sensibility  of  the  Neapolitans.  They  have  logic  and 
common  sense,  as  Stendhal  said,  while  the  Neapolitans  are 
merely  badly  trained  children. 

In  the  evening  every  one  goes  to  the  Champs-Elys6es  to 
hear  Musard's  music  ;  fine  ladies  and  lorettes  mingled  pell- 
mell,  and  are  difficult  to  distinguish  one  from  the  other. 
And  people  go  to  the  circus  to  see  the  learned  dogs  roll  a 
ball  up  an  inclined  plane  by  leaping  on  it !  This  genera- 
tion is  losing  all  taste  for  intellectual  pleasures. 

South  Parade,  Bath,  August,  i860. —  Such  a  life  as 
mine  here  would  make  a  thorough-bred  horse  broken- 
winded  :  in  the  morning,  walks,  shopping,  and  visiting ;  in 
the  evening,  dinners  with  the  aristocrats,  where  I  always 
find  the  same  dishes  and  nearly  the  same  faces.  I  could 
hardly  remember  the  names  of  my  hosts,  for  in  their  white 
cravats  and  black  coats,  all  Englishmen  look  verj'  much 
alike.  We  are  extremely  detested  here,  and  still  more 
dreaded.  Nothing  is  more  droll  than  the  fear  they  have  of 
us,  which  they  are  at  no  pains  to  disguise.  The  volunteers 
are  even  more  stupid  than  the  National  Guard  was  with  us 
in  1830  ;  for  in  this  country  everything  is  invested  with  an 
air  of  gravity  not  to  be  seen  elsewhere.  I  know  a  very 
honest  fellow  sixty  years  of  age,  who  drills  every  day  in 
Zouave  breeches.  The  Ministry  is  very  weak  and  does 
14 


210  MERIMEE 

not  know  its  own  mind,  and  the  Opposition  is  not  more 
wise.  But  great  and  small  agree  in  believing  that  we  covet 
general  annexation.  At  the  same  time,  there  is  no  one 
who  supposes  a  war  to  be  possible,  unless  the  question  of 
annexing  the  three  kingdoms  should  be  agitated.  I  am  not 
very  well  pleased  with  the  Emperor's  letter  to  M.  de  Per- 
signy.  It  would  have  been  much  better  in  my  opinion,  to 
say  nothing  at  all,  or  simply  to  tell  them  what  I  repeat 
every  evening  :  that  they  are  great  fools. 

London,  18  Arlington  Street,  i860. —  Only  after  some 
time  in  London  do  I  accustom  myself  to  its  singular  light, 
which  seems  to  pass  through  brown  gauze,  the  effect  being 
that  of  an  eclipse.  This  atmospheric  peculiarity  and  the 
curtainless  windows  will  annoy  me  for  some  days  to  come ; 
but  on  the  other  hand  I  am  regaling  on  all  manner  of 
good  things,  breakfasting  and  dining  like  an  ogre. 

It  is  evident  that  the  affairs  of  the  East  are  becoming 
more  complicated  every  moment.  The  disembarking  of  the 
French  in  Syria  would  be  followed  by  a  general  explosion 
of  massacre  and  pillage  throughout  the  East ;  very  probably, 
also,  the  Turkish  provinces  of  Greece  —  that  is  to  say, 
Thessaly,  Macedonia,  and  Christian  Albania  —  would  be  ex- 
cited to  retaliation.  Everything  will  be  on  fire  this  winter 
in  the  East,  and  to  visit  Algeria  at  such  a  moment  seems 
to  me  perfect  madness.  The  <(  Times  ■  to-day  announces 
four  feet  of  snow  at  Inverness.  Shall  I  find  enough  char- 
coal and  plaids  in  Scotland  to  remedy  this  evil? 

Glenquoich,  August,  i860. —  The  weather  here  is  always 
detestable,  but  it  does  not  hinder  people  from  going  out. 
They  are  so  accustomed  to  rain,  that  unless  it  be  of  ex- 
traordinary violence  they  are  not  deterred  from  walking. 
The  paths  are  sometimes  torrents,  and  the  mountains  are 
invisible  within  a  hundred  paces  ;  but  these  people  return, 
saying  <(  Beautiful  walk."  One  of  the  greatest  annoyances 
of  this  region  is  a  little  fly  called  midge,  which  is  exceed- 
ingly venomous  ;  and  though  there  are  two  young  ladies 
here,  the  one  blonde,  the  other  red-haired,  and  both  with 
skin  of  satin,  these   horrible   insects    prefer    to    attack    me. 


.  1 

(: 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYM  A  211 

Our  chief  amusement  is  fishing,  and  fortunately  the  insects 
do  not  venture  on  the  lake.  There  are  fourteen  persons 
here.  During  the  day  each  one  goes  his  own  way ;  in 
the  evening,  after  dinner,  each  one  takes  a  book  or 
writes  letters.  To  chat  and  seek  to  amuse  each  other  is  a 
thing  unknown  to  the  English.  The  Highland  air  has 
benefited  me,  and  I  breathe  more  easily.  Our  hunters  kill 
deer  and  grouse  ;  and  every  day  we  have  excellent  birds  ; 
but  I  cannot  eat,  the  main  pleasure  amid  this  rain  and 
fog  ;  and  I  sigh  for  a  soupe  maigre,  or  for  a  solitary  dinner 
at  home,  or  with  you  at  Saint-Cheron  :  this  last  wish  will 
never  be  realized,  I  fear. 

Paris,  September,  i860. —  Panizzi  has  been  with  me  for 
ten  days,  and  I  am  acting  cicerone,  showing  him  every- 
thing, from  cedar  to  hyssop.  I  understand  nothing  of  the 
disorders  that  have  begun.  My  guest  thinks  that  the  Pope 
and  the  Austrians  will  be  driven  out.  For  the  first,  ap- 
pearances are  unfavorable  ;  as  to  the  others,  I  believe  that 
if  Garibaldi  meddles  with  them  he  will  burn  his  fingers. 
From  Naples  comes  a  royal  philosophical  witticism.  Pre- 
vious to  embarking,  His  Majesty  received,  every  five  min- 
utes, the  resignation  of  a  general  or  an  admiral  :  *  Now 
they  are  too  thoroughly  Italians  to  fight  against  Garibaldi ; 
a  month  hence  they  will  be  too  much  of  royalists  to  fight 
against  the  Austrians.®  It  would  be  impossible  for  you  to 
imagine  the  fury  of  the  Orleanists  and  Carlists.  A  rather 
sensible  Italian  tells  me  that  M.  de  Cavour  caused  the  Sar- 
dinian army  to  enter  the  States  of  the  Church,  because 
Mazzini  was  about  to  incite  a  revolution  there. 

I  hear  that  the  fites  at  Marseilles  in  the  Imperial  honor 
were  very  fine  :  that  the  enthusiasm  was  at  once  deliberate 
and  clamorous,  and  that  perfect  order  was  maintained  not- 
withstanding the  immense,  overexcited  Southern  multitude. 
The  spectacle  of  the  Marseillaise,  in  their  ordinary  state,  is 
always  sufficiently  amusing,  but,  when  under  excitement, 
they  must  be  still  more  absurd.  But  they  not  only  lost 
their  heads  on  the  occasion  of  the  Emperor's  visit,  but  also 
two  barrels  of  Spanish  wine  that  I  have  been  expecting. 
The  merchant  who  should  have  received  them  writes  to  me 


212  MERIMEE 

very  naively,  that  he  was  too  much  occupied  with  the  fites 
to  think  of  my  wine,  and  could  only  attend  to  it  after 
taking  a  little  rest. 

I  lately  passed  a  few  days  at  Saintonge,  where  I  found 
every  one  discomfited,  weeping  their  eyes  awaj'  for  the  mis- 
fortunes of  the  Holy  Father  and  General  Lamoriciere.  It 
is  said  that  General  Changarnier  is  writing  a  narrative  of 
his  colleague's  campaign,  in  which,  after  bestowing  the 
highest  eulogies,  he  proves  that  L,amoriciere  committed  the 
most  enormous  follies.  In  my  opinion,  the  only  one  of 
the  martyr  heroes  at  whom  one  cannot  laugh,  is  Pimodan, 
who  died  like  a  brave  soldier.  Those  who  exclaim  against 
the  martyrs  because  they  have  been  taken,  move  me  to  no 
pity.  Moreover,  the  present  time  is  perfectly  comic ;  and 
it  is  comfortable  to  learn  every  morning,  through  one's 
paper,  of  a  catastrophe,  to  read  Cavour's  notes  and  the 
:  encyclicals.  I  see  that  they  have  shot  Walker,  in  America, 
which  surprises  me,  for  his  case  is  precisely  that  of  Gari- 
\   baldi  whom  we  all  admire. 

Two  evenings  ago,  wishing  for  some  music,  I  went  to 
the  Italians,  where  they  gave  the  "Barber  of  Seville.8  This 
music,  the  gayest  ever  written,  was  executed  by  people 
with  the  air  of  having  just  returned  from  a  funeral. 
*  Alboni,  who  played  Rosina,  sang  admirably,  with  the  ex- 
pression of  a  bird  organ.  Gardoni  sang  like  a  gentleman 
who  fears  to  be  mistaken  for  an  actor.  Had  I  been 
'  Rossini  I  should  have  beaten  them  every  one.  Only  Ba- 
silio,  whose  name  I  do  not  recall,  sang  as  if  he  understood 
the  words. 

I  am  told  that  the  Empress,  whom  I  have  not  yet  seen, 
is  still  terribly  afflicted.  She  sent  me  a  fine  photograph  of 
the  Duchesse  d'Albe,  taken  twenty-four  hours  after  death, 
which  was  very  calm  ;  she  looks  as  if  in  a  quiet  sleep. 
Five  minutes  before  her  death  she  laughed  at  her  waiting- 
maid's  Valencian  patois.  I  have  no  direct  news  of  Madame 
de  Monti  jo  since  her  departure,  but  I  fear  that  the  poor 
lady  will  not  bear  up  under  this  dreadful  blow. 

I  am  in  the  midst  of  academical  intrigues  ;  the  question 
not  one  touching  the  French  Academy,  but  that  of  the 
fine  arts.     An  intimate  friend  of  mine  is  the  favored  candi- 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  213 

date,  but  he  has  received  an  intimation  from  His  Majesty 
to  give  place  to  M.  Haussmann,  the  Prefect.  The  Academy 
is  annoyed,  and  wishes  to  nominate  my  friend  in  spite  of 
himself,  which  I  encourage  to  the  utmost ;  and  I  should 
like  to  tell  the  Emperor  the  wrong  he  does  himself  in  min- 
gling with  matters  that  do  not  concern  him.  I  hope  for 
success,  and  that  the  Colossus  will  be  finely  blackballed. 

Italian  affairs  are  very  amusing,  and  what  is  said  of 
them  by  the  few  honest  people  here  is  still  more  droll. 
The  martyrs  of  Castelfidardo  are  beginning  to  arrive, 
among  them  a  young  man  of  eighteen  years  who  allowed 
himself  to  be  taken,  and  whose  aunt  I  saw  a  few  days 
ago.  She  said :  <(  The  Piedmontese  behaved  in  an  atro- 
cious manner  to  my  nephew.  *  I  awaited  some  appalling 
revelation.  (<  Only  imagine.  Monsieur,  five  minutes  after 
being  made  prisoner  the  poor  fellow's  watch  was  gone.  A 
gold  hunting  watch  that  I  had  given  him  !  *  y^ 

October,  i860. —  I  quite  understand  that  the  first  view  of 
Oriental  life  should  dazzle  you.  One  sees  things  both  droll 
and  to  be  admired  at  every  step  ;  in  fact,  there  is  always  some- 
thing droll  in  Orientals  as  in  certain  strange,  pompous 
beasts  that  we  formerly  saw  at  the  Jardin  des  Plantes. 
Decamps  has  caught  this  ludicrous  phase,  but  not  the  very 
fine,  noble  side  of  their  character. 

Thanks  to  your  sex  you  are  privileged  to  enter  the 
harems  and  chat  with  the  women.  Do  they  in  Algeria,  as 
in  Turkey,  make  a  display  of  their  charms?  Tell  me  how  ' 
they  dress,  what  they  say,  and  what  they  think  of  you. 
What  is  the  character  of  the  dances  that  you  saw  ?  Were 
they  modest,  and  did  you  comprehend  their  sentiment?  I 
imagine  that  they  are  more  interesting  than  those  of  Pari- 
sian balls ;  and  they  probably  resemble  the  dances  of  the 
gypsy  women  of  Granada.  I  do  not  doubt  that  an  Arab, 
from  Sahara,  in  witnessing  a  waltz  in  Paris,  would  con- 
clude, and  naturally,  that  the  French  women  were  enacting 
pantomime.  In  going  to  the  root  of  things  we  always  find 
the  same  primal  ideas.  Have  you  seen  the  women  at  the 
Moorish  baths?  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  the  habit  of 
living  with   crossed  legs  must  give  them  horrible  knees.     I 


214 


MERIMEE 


suppose  you  will  adopt  kohl  for  your  eyes,  which  is  very 
pretty,  being  also,  it  is  said,  an  excellent  preservative 
against  ophthalmia,  an  affection  common  and  dangerous  for 
European  eyes  in  hot  climates.  I  grant  you  my  permission 
to  try  the  effect.  You  give  me  sketches  ;  I  wish  for  de- 
tails. There  is  nothing  that  you  cannot  say  to  me,  and 
besides,  you  are  renowned  for  your  euphuisms.  You  have 
the  art  of  academical  expression.  I  congratulate  you  on  your 
courage  in  learning  Arabic.  I  once  glanced  through  M.  de 
Sacy's  grammar  and  recoiled  in  terror,  but  I  remember 
that  there  are  lunar  and  solar  letters,  and  I  know  not  how 
many  conjugations.  My  cousin,  one  of  the  most  learned 
.  Arabists,  who  had  passed  twenty-five  years  at  Djeddah,  told 

£-  I  iJtnJ    me  *^at  he   never   opened   a   book   without   learning    some 

taJ  new  word,  of  which   there   were,  for  instance,  five  hundred 

for  the  one  word  lion. 

Paris,  October,  i860. —  I  went  to  Saint-Cloud  yesterday, 
where  I  breakfasted  almost  tete-h-t$te  with  the  Emperor,  the 
Empress,  and  <(  Monsieur  fils,  *  as  they  say  at  Lyons.  I 
talked  a  long  while  with  the  Emperor,  principally  of  ancient 
history  and  Caesar.  He  surprises  me  by  the  ease  with  which 
he  comprehends  erudite  subjects,  for  which  he  has  only  re- 
cently acquired  the  taste.  The  Empress  related  some  curious 
anecdotes  of  her  journey  in  Corsica.  The  Bishop  spoke  to 
her  of  a  bandit  named  Bosio,  a  thoroughly  honest  youth, 
whom  the  counsels  of  a  woman  had  driven  to  commit  sev- 
eral little  murders.  He  is  pursued  for  some  months,  but 
uselessly  ;  women  and  children  suspected  of  carrying  him 
food  are  thrown  into  prison,  but  to  lay  hands  on  him  is 
impossible.  Her  Majesty,  who  has  read  a  certain  romance,* 
became  interested  in  this  man,  and  said  she  should  be  very 
glad  if  he  could  be  enabled  to  leave  the  island  and  go  to 
Africa  or  elsewhere,  where  he  might  become  a  good  soldier 
and  an  honest  man.  a  Ah !  Madame, w  said  the  Bishop, 
(<  will  you  allow  me  to  have  this  told  to  him  ? w  (<  How, 
Monseigneur,  you  know  where  he  is  ?  w  General  rule  :  the 
most  worthless  fellow  in  Corsica  is  always  related  to  the 
most  honest  man.     It  greatly  surprised    the    Imperial  party 

*  M£rimeVs  novel  of  Colombo.. 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  215 

that  they  should  have  been  asked  for  a  prodigious  number 
of  favors  (grdces),  but  not  for  a  sou;  so  the  Empress  re- 
turns full  of   enthusiasm. 

The  meeting  at  Warsaw  is  a  failure.  The  Emperor  of 
Austria  invited  himself,  and  was  received  with  the  polite- 
ness that  is  accorded  to  the  indiscreet.  Nothing  of  im- 
portance was  accomplished.  The  Emperor  of  Austria  es- 
sayed to  prove  that  if  Hungary  was  a  source  of  danger  to 
Austria,  Russia  had  Poland  ;  to  which  Gortschakoff  replies : 
<(  You  have  eleven  millions  of  Hungarians,  and  you  are 
three  millions  of  Germans.  We  are  forty  millions  of  Rus- 
sians, and  have  no  need  of  assistance  in  bringing  six  thou- 
sand Poles  to  their  senses.  Consequently,  there  is  no 
necessity  for  mutual  guaranties.  *  England  is  calming  down, 
and  it  is  possible  that  she  may  make  us  overtures  to  adopt 
a  joint  policy  with  regard  to  Italy.  In  that  event  war 
would  be  impossible  unless  Garibaldi  should  attack  Venice. 
They  write  me  from  Naples  that  the  muddle  is  at  its 
height,  and  the  Piedmontese  are  expected  there  with  the 
same  impatience  with  which  we  in  Paris  in  1848  looked  for 
the  arrival  of  the  troops  of  the  line.  They  sigh  for  order 
and  rest  their  hopes  for  its  restoration  on  Victor  Emmanuel 
alone.  Moreover,  Garibaldi  and  Alexandre  Dumas  have\ 
prepared  their  minds  for  peace,  much  in  the  same  way  asy 
a  freezing  rain  disposes  one  to  a  hot  dinner.  ' 

Paris,  November,  i860. —  Affairs  are  still  complicated  by 
the  condition  of  the  East,  which  is  such  that  our  Ambassa- 
dor at  Constantinople  expects  the  old  machine  to  crack  from 
top  to  bottom  at  any  moment.  The  Sultan  is  selling  his 
cashmeres,  and  does  not  know  if  he  will  be  able  to  buy  a 
dinner  next  month.  Do  you  know  the  Emperor  Francis 
Joseph's  greeting  to  the  Emperor  Alexander  ?  "  I  bring  you 
my  guilty  head  !  B  The  serf's  formula  on  approaching  his 
master  in  the  fear  of  being  beaten.  This  he  said  in  good 
Russian,  for  he  knows  all  languages.  His  servile  meanness 
did  not  profit  him  much  ;  Alexander  preserved  a  most  dis- 
couraging coldness,  and  the  Prince  Regent  of  Prussia,  fol- 
lowing his  example,  put  on  airs.  After  the  departure  of 
the  Emperor  Alexander,  the  Austrian  emperor  remained 
four    hours    alone    at    Warsaw,  where    there    was    no    great 


216  MERIMEE 

Russian  or  Polish  noblemen  so  poor  to  do  him  reverence. 
/  All  this  has  been  a  great  triumph  to  the  old  Russians,  who 
I  detest  the  Austrians  still  more  than  the  English  or  our- 
\  selves. 

You  have  heard  of  our  victory  over  these  poor  Chinese. 
What  an  absurdity  to  go  so  far  for  the  purpose  of  killing 
people  who  have  done  us  no  harm.  True,  being  a  species 
of  ourang-outang,  the  Grammont  law  alone  can  be  invoked 
in  their  favor.  I  am  preparing  for  our  Chinese  conquests  by 
reading  a  new  romance  just  translated  by  Stanislas  Julien. 
It  is  the  story  of  Mademoiselle  Can  and  Mademoiselle  Ling 
who  are  very  witty,  making  verses  and  crambo  on  every 
occasion.  They  meet  with  two  students  possessing  the  same 
poetic  facility,  and  a  never-ending  combat  of  quatrains  en- 
sues, the  prominent  idea  of  which  is  the  blue  lotus  and 
white  doves.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  any  imagina- 
tive effort  more  uncouth  and  more  barren  of  passion.  The 
people  who  can  be  amused  by  this  style  of  literature  are 
evidently  abominable  pedants,  who  well  deserve  to  be  beaten 
and  conquered  by  us,  who  are  disciples  of  the  noble 
Greek  literature. 

I  dined  to-day  with  Prince  Napoleon.  The  Princess  Clo- 
tilde  admired  my  wrist  buttons,  and  asked  the  address  of 
my  jeweler. 

Marseilles,  November,  i860. —  My  friend  Mr.  Ellice,  of 
Glenquoich,  will  be  my  neighbor  this  winter.  He  has  just 
purchased  a  Scotch  estate  next  his  own  ;  or  rather  lakes, 
rocks,  and  heaths  several  leagues  in  extent.  I  cannot  con- 
ceive what  it  will   produce,  unless  it  be  grouse  and  deer. 

I  have  brought  with  me  a  new  edition  of  Pouschkine's 
works,  and  have  promised  to  write  a  notice  of  him.  I  find 
magnificent  things  in  his  lyric  poems,  entirely  after  my  own 
heart ;  that  is  to  say,  Greek  in  their  truth  and  simplicity. 
I  should  like  to  translate  several  that  are  marked  by  great 
sprightliness,  in  which,  as  in  precision  and  clearness,  he 
strikes  me  as  pre-eminent.  One  in  the  style  of  Sappho's 
ode  reminds  me  that  I  am  writing  in  the  chamber  of  an 
inn,  dreaming  of  happy  moments  in  the  past.  I  am  ill  and 
suffering  ;   but    of    all    petty    miseries   the    worst    for    me  is 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  217 

sleeplessness,  when  thoughts  are  gloomy,  and  one  takes  a 
dislike  to  one's  self.  The  journey  of  the  Empress  to  Scot- 
land creates  much  gossip,  aad  every  one  is  mystified. 

Cannes,  December ',  i860. — The  political  disturbance  has 
somewhat  agitated  me,  however  unprejudiced  in  the  prem- 
ises I  may  be.  You  know  how  intimate  I  have  been  with 
the  chief  victim,  M.  Fould.  As  yet  I  know  nothing  posi- 
tive respecting  the  reasons  for  his  disgrace.  It  is  evident, 
however,  that  a  beautiful  woman  is  somewhat  implicated, 
who  is  anxious  to  dislodge  him,  and  who  has  long  sought  to 
accomplish  this  end.  M.  Fould  is  less  philosophical  than  I 
chould  have  thought,  or  than  I  should  have  been  in  his 
place  ;  but  he  has  been  wounded  by  certain  proceedings. 
As  to  the  liberal  measures,  we  must  wait  to  see  the  result. 
As  a  principle,  it  is  better  to  take  the  initiative  in  giving 
than  to  grant  what  has  been  long  and  impatiently  demanded. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Emperor  may  be  seeking  support 
in  the  Chambers  to  enable  him  to  withdraw  from  our  false 
position  in  Italy, —  protecting  a  Pope  who  excommunicated 
us  in  petto,  while  we  risk  a  quarrel  with  our  friends  out  of 
tenderness  for  the  vanity  of  a  puppet  (the  Emperor  of 
Austria)  who  has  never  wished  us  well.  Here,  throughout 
France,  the  people  who  wear  black  coats  and  claim  to  be 
powerful  are  in  favor  of  the  Pope  and  the  King  of  Naples, 
as  if  they  had  incited  no  revolution  in  France,  but  their 
love  for  the  papacy  and  legitimacy  does  not  stretch  to  the 
point  of  expending  a  crown  for  them.  What  will  be  the 
effect  of  the  recrudescent  eloquence  with  which  the  new 
concessions  threaten  us  ?  The  old  Parliamentarians  begin  to 
prick  up  their  ears.  M.  Thiers,  it  is  said,  will  enter  the 
lists  as  a  candidate  for  the  Deputies,  and  this  example  will 
be  followed  by  many  others.  I  can  hardly  imagine  what 
will  become  of  the  Ministers  without  portfolio  commissioned 
to  represent  the  eloquence  of  the  Legislative  Body  and  the 
Senate ;  but  it  will  be  diverting  to  see  orators  like  Mes- 
sieurs Magne  and  Billault,  with  the  Jules  Favres  and  tutti 
qtianti. 

My  friend  Mr.  Ellice  is  at  Nice,  whence  he  occasionally 
comes  to  visit  me  ;  he  complains    of    finding   no  intellectual 


/ 


2i8  M&RQfftE 

associates.  I  see  that  you  have  had  a  visit  from  Mr.  Cob- 
den,  a  man  of  talent  and  very  interesting,  the  opposite  of 
an  Englishman,  in  that  he  never  utters  commonplaces  and 
has  few  prejudices.  I  can  give  you  no  political  news,  for 
my  correspondents  tell  me  nothing,  except  that  nothing  is 
done.  It  is  a  characteristic  of  our  generation  to  set  out 
with  a  great  hubbub  that  ends  in  loitering  and  amusing 
ourselves  on  the  road. 

Cannes,  February,  1861. — I  have  been  to  Nice  on  a 
visit  to  my  friend  Mr.  Ellice  who  is  cruelly  tortured  by  the 
gout.  I  confess  to  an  involuntary  sentiment  of  satisfaction 
in  passing  the  bridge  of  the  Var  free  from  custom-house 
officers,  gensdarmes,  and  passports.  It  is  a  fine  annexation 
and  makes  one  feel  several  millimetres  taller. 

M.  Fould  has  been  on  a  visit  to  me,  and  related  many 
curious  stories  touching  both  men  and  women  who  inter- 
meddled in  his  affairs.  I  doubt  if  he  will  have  the  cour- 
age to  persevere  in  sulking.  It  appears  that  when  one  has 
carried  a  red  portfolio  under  the  arm  for  some  time,  the 
loss  of  it  reduces  him  to  the  state  of  an  Englishman  with- 
out his  umbrella. 

If  you  find  some  pretty  silk  stuff  that  washes,  and  not 
too  much  like  a  woman's  gown,  order  me  a  robe  de  chambre 
the  longest  possible,  and  buttoned  down  the  left  side,  and 
in  the  Oriental  fashion.  Bring  it  with  you,  for  I  have  no 
wish  to  wear  silk  gowns  when  the  ice  of  the  Seine  is  two 
feet  thick.  The  cold  reported  at  Paris  makes  my  hair  stand 
on  end  ;  nevertheless  I  am  summoned  there  by  the  President. 
Do  not  be  alarmed  to  see  my  illness  announced.  A  dignity 
has  been  conferred  on  me  which  I  could  very  well  have 
dispensed  with,  but  which  compels  me  to  be  punctual ;  and 
they  also  write  me  that  our  Senate  is  papistical  and  legiti- 
mist, and  that  my  vote  will  not  be  one  too  many  for  the 
ballot. 

The  poor  Duchess  of  Malakof  is  an  excellent  person,  not 
very  bright,  especially  as  to  French.  She  appears  to  be 
entirely  domineered  over  by  her  frightful  monster  of  a  hus- 
band, who  is  rough  by  habit  and  perhaps  through  policy. 
It  is  said,  however,  that  she  accommodates   herself    to    the 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  219 

inevitable.  Should  you  see  her,  speak  of  me  and  of  our 
theatrical  performances  in  Spain.  I  am  told  that  her  brother 
is  an  amiable  fellow,  very  handsome,  and  a  poet  into 
the  bargain.  Thanks  for  the  tobacco  pouch,  the  gold  and 
colored  embroidery  of  which  is  exquisite.  Only  barbarians 
can  do  these  things,  our  workmen  having  too  much  ac- 
quired art  and  not  enough  sentiment  to  equal  them.  Thanks 
also  for  the  bananas,  to  my  taste  the  most  delicious  fruit 
in  the  world. 

Paris,  March,  1861. — Since  my  return  to  Paris  I  have 
been  in  a  condition  of  utter  stultification ;  first,  as  regards 
our  exhibition  at  the  Senate,  where,  I  may  say  with  M. 
Jourdain,  I  have  been  surfeited  with  nonsense.  Every  one  j 
had  a  speech  prepared,  that  it  was  necessary  to  display, 
and  so  contagious  was  the  example  of  dullness  that  I  de- 
livered my  own  like  an  idiot.  I  was  cruelly  frightened, 
but  overcame  it  by  reminding  myself  that  I  was  in  the 
presence  of  two  hundred  imbeciles,  and  with  no  reason  for 
agitation.  The  joke  of  it  was  that  M.  Walewski,  for 
whom  I  wished  to  obtain  a  satisfactory  budget,  was  of- 
fended by  my  praise  of  his  predecessor,  and  honestly  de- 
clared that  he  would  vote  against  my  resolution.  M. 
Troplong,  near  whom  in  virtue  of  my  office  as  Secretary  I 
was  seated,  condoled  with  me  in  a  low  tone ;  to  which  I 
replied  that  it  was  impossible  to  make  a  Minister  drink  who 
was  not  thirsty.  This  was  repeated  piping  hot  to  M. 
Walewski,  who  took  it  for  an  epigram,  and  has  frowned  at 
me  ever  since. 

The  second  ennui  of  the  day  is  the  official  and  private 
dinners,  where  one  sees  the  same  turbot,  fillet,  and  lobster, 
and  the  same  tiresome  persons  as  on  the  preceding  occa- 
sion. But  the  most  irksome  of  all  is  Catholicism.  You 
can  hardly  imagine  the  degree  of  exasperation  to  which 
Catholics  are  moved,  flying  in  one's  face  for  a  mere 
nothing;  for  example,  if  one  does  not  show  the  whites  of 
one's  eyes  in  hearing  them  discourse  of  the  sainted 
martyr ;  and  still  more  if  one  innocently  inquires,  as  I 
have  done,  who  has  been  martyrized.  I  have  also  got  into 
a    scrape    in    expressing    astonishment    that    the    Queen    of 


' : 


220  MERIMEE 

Naples  should  be  photographed  in  boots  !  —  an  exaggeration 
of  my  words  and  a  surpassing  stupidity.  The  other  even- 
ing a  lady  asked  me  if  I  had  seen  the  Empress  of  Austria. 
I  said  that  I  thought  her  very  pretty.  <(  Ah !  she  is 
ideal !  * — No,  it  is  an  irregular  face,  more  agreeable  per- 
haps than  if  perfectly  classical. — (<  Ah  !  Monsieur,  she  is  beauty 
itself  !  Tears  of  admiration  come  to  one's  eyes  !  *  And  this 
is  the  society  of  to-day  !  I  fly  from  it  as  from  the  plague. 
What  has  become  of  the  French  society  of  former  years  ! 

The  latest,  but  a  colossal  bore,  has  been  tt  Tannhauser. w 
Some  persons  say  that  its  representation  at  Paris  was  one 
of  the  secret  clauses  of  the  treaty  of  Villafranca ;  others, 
that  Wagner  has  been  given  to  us  to  compel  our  admira- 
tion of  Berlioz.  The  fact  is,  it  is  prodigious.  I  am  con- 
vinced that  I  could  write  something  similar  if  inspired  by 
the  scampering  of  my  cat  over  the  piano  keys.  The  Prin- 
cess de  Metternich  bestirred  herself  enormously  in  feigning 
to  understand  it  and  to  lead  the  applause,  which,  however, 
never  came.  Every  one  yawned ;  but  at  first  the  audience 
assumed  the  air  of  comprehending  this  keyless  enigma. 
Beneath  Madame  de  Metternich's  box,  it  was  said  by  the 
wits  that  the  Austrians  were  taking  their  revenge  for 
Solferino.     It  was  also  said  that  one  wearies  of   the  recita- 


.  ,  tives,  and    tires    of    the    airs  (se    tanne   aux    airs).     Try  to 

catch  the  pun.  Your  Arabic  music,  I  fancy,  would  be  a 
capital  preparation  for  this  infernal  uproar.  The  failure  is 
stupendous  !     Auber  says  that  it  is  Berlioz  without  melody. 

I  am  satisfied  that  within  two  months  the  Pope  will 
either  be  off,  or  that  we  shall  leave  him  to  his  own  de- 
vices, or  that  he  will  come  to  some  arrangement  with 
Piedmont ;  but  matters  cannot  remain  in  their  present 
status.  The  bigots  are  raising  a  horrible  outcry,  but  the 
Gallic  bourgeois  and  the  people  are  anti-papists. 

You  tell  me  nothing  of  your  health,  Which  appears  to  be 
good,  nor  of  your  complexion,  which  must  be,  I  fear,  some- 
what browned. 

Paris,  May,  1861. — You  must  have  been  sadly  im- 
pressed with  the  aspect  of  winter  in  Central  France,  com- 
ing   as    you    do    from    Africa.     Whenever    I    return    from 


LETTERS    TO   ANONYM  A  221 

Cannes  I  am  horrified  at  the  sight  of  the  leafless  trees  and 
damp,  dead  earth. 

The  Catholics  have  rendered  our  salons  insupportable. 
Not  only  have  the  former  devotees  become  acid  as  ver- 
juice, but  all  of  the  ex-Voltaireans  of  the  political  oppo- 
sition have  turned  papists.  What  consoles  me,  is,  that 
some  among  them  believe  themselves  obliged  to  attend 
mass,  which  must  bore  them  sufficiently.  My  old  Profes- 
sor, M.  Cousin,  who  formerly  never  spoke  of  the  Pope 
but  as  the  Bishop  of  Rome,  is  converted  and  never  misses 
a  mass.  It  is  even  said  that  M.  Thiers  is  becoming  de- 
vout, but  I  find  some  difficulty  in  believing  it,  for  I  have 
always  had  a  weakness  for  him. 

I  am,  at  this  very  moment,  a  prey  to  the    herrings    that 
the  sea-calves  of  Boulogne  have  raised    up    to   torment   us, 
and  I  await  the  Maronites  as  a  finishing  stroke  —  that  is  to 
say,  we  are  disputing  in    the   Senate,  and    very    sharply,  d. . 
propos  to  herrings,  and  we  are  menaced  with  daily  sittings..,/ 
Is  it  true  that  all  the  Boulogne  herring  fishers   are    thieves  ^    v/ 
who  buy    the    herrings    taken   by   the    English,   and   which 
they  pretend  to  have  caught  themselves  ?     Is  it  also  true  that  > 
the  herrings  have  been  seduced    by    the    English,  and    pass 
no  more  along  our  coasts  ? 

Chateau  de  Fontainebleau,  June,  1861. —  I  am  rest- 
ing under  the  trees  with  great  happiness  after  my  tribula- 
tions. Never  have  I  seen  men  so  enraged,  so  out  of  their 
senses  as  the  magistrates.  I  console  myself  in  thinking  that 
if  twenty  years  hence  some  antiquary  shall  burrow  in  the 
"Moniteur"  of  this  week,  he  will  say  that  one  philosopher  of 
moderation  and  calmness  was  found  among  an  assembly  of 
lunatics.  This  philosopher,  without  vanity,  is  myself.  In  -\ 
this  country  magistrates  are  selected  from  men  too  stupid  to 
gain  their  living  as  lawyers  ;  they  are  badly  paid,  and  are  J 
allowed  to  be  crabbed  and  insolent.  I  have  done  my  duty, 
and  all  is  at  an  end.  I  was  well  received  here,  with  no 
raillery  on  my  defeat.  I  very  clearly  gave  my  opinion  of 
the  matter,  and  they  do  not  appear  to  think  me  in  the 
wrong.  It  is  magnificent  weather  and  the  air  of  the  forest 
is    delicious.     There    are    rocks    and    heather   which    would 


222 


MERIMEE 


have  their  charms  could  I  walk  with  you  among  them, 
chatting  of  all  manner  of  things ;  but  we  go  in  a  long  file 
of  chars  5  bancs,  where  one  is  not  always  well  matched  in 
point  of  capacity  for  amusing.  There  is  not  a  republic, 
however,  where  one  can  have  more  freedom  or  find  a  host 
and  hostess  more  amiable  and  kind  to  their  guests.  There 
are  few  people  here.  We  have  the  Princess  de  Metternich, 
who  is  very  animated  after  the  German  fashion,  that  is  to 
say,  she  affects  a  species  of  originality  composed  of  two  parts 
lorette,  one  part  great  lady.  I  suspect  that  in  reality  there  is 
not  too  much  wit  to  sustain  the  r61e  that  she  has  adopted. 
One  accomplishes  nothing  here.  Sometimes  I  am  summoned 
for  a  stroll  in  the  woods  ;  sometimes  to  make  verses  ;  but  time 
is  especially  wasted  in  waiting.  The  great  philosophy  of 
the  day  is  to  know  how  to  wait,  and  I  have  some  difficulty 
in  educating  myself  in  the  art.  Thanks  to  Caesar,  doubt- 
less, I  shall  be  here  until  the  end  of  the  month.  I  am 
working  for  the  bourgeois  (the  Emperor),  with  whom  I  am 
more  pleased  every  day.  I  went  last  week  to  Alise  with 
the  Emperor,  who  is  becoming  an  accomplished  archaeolo- 
gist. He  passed  three  hours  and  a  half  on  the  mountain, 
under  the  most  terrific  sun,  examining  the  vestiges  of 
Caesar's  siege,  and  reading  the  ■  Commentaries."  We  re- 
turned with  the  skin  pealed  from  our  ears,  and  the  color 
of  chimney-sweeps. 

Chateau  db  Fontaineblbau,  June,  1861. — We  have 
had  a  capital  ceremony  here,  reminding  me  of  that  in  the 
a  Bourgeois  Gentilhomme.  *  It  was  the  most  diverting  spec- 
tacle possible,  that  of  twenty  black  men  exceedingly  like 
monkeys,  dressed  in  gold  brocade  with  white  stockings  and 
varnished  shoes,  and  swords  at  their  side,  all  flat  on  their 
face  and  crawling  on  hands  and  knees  the  whole  length  of 
the  Henri  II.  gallery,  each  one  with  his  nose  level  with 
the  back  of  the  crawler  preceding  him.  The  hardest  task 
fell  to  the  first  ambassador,  who  wore  a  felt  hat  embroid- 
ered in  gold  that  danced  on  his  head  with  each  motion, 
and  who  held  a  bowl  of  gold  filagree  work  within  which 
were  two  boxes  containing  each  a  letter  from  their  Siamese 
Majesties.     The    letters   were    inclosed     in   purses    of    gold- 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  223 

woven  silk,  the  whole  being  very  pretty.  After  delivering 
the  letters  to  the  Emperor,  it  became  necessary  to  retire 
backward,  and  confusion  fell  upon  the  embassy.  A  suc- 
cession of  blows  on  the  face  of  those  behind  them  by  the 
first  rank,  whose  swords  pierced  the  eyes  of  the  second 
rank,  who  in  turn  made  blind  of  one  eye  the  third  rank, 
was  the  result  of  this  masterly  retreat.  They  presented 
the  appearance  of  a  swarm  of  black  beetles  on  the  carpet. 
The  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs  had  arranged  the  ceremony 
and  exacted  that  the  ambassadors  should  crawl,  the  effect 
of  which  moreover  failed  for  the  Emperor  at  length  lost  all 
patience,  rose,  made  the  beetles  rise,  and  spoke  in  English 
with  one  of  them.  The  Empress  kissed  a  little  monkey  whom 
they  had  brought,  said  to  be  the  son  of  one  of  the  ambas- 
sadors, who  ran  about  on  all  fours  like  a  little  rat,  but  had 
an  intelligent  expression.  The  temporal  king  of  Siam  sent 
his  portrait  to  the  Emperor,  and  that  of  his  wife,  who  is 
hideously  ugly.  You  would  be  charmed  by  the  beauty 
and  variety  of  the  stuffs  they  brought ;  gold  and  silver  tis- 
sues so  light  and  transparent  as  to  resemble  the  clouds  of 
a  fine  sunset.  They  gave  the  Emperor  trowsers  embroid- 
ered with  ornaments  in  enamel  and  gold,  and  a  vest  of 
gold  brocade  as  flexible  as  foulard,  the  designs,  gold  on 
gold,  being  really  exquisite ;  while  the  buttons  are  of  a 
filagree  gold,  diamonds,  and  emeralds.  They  have  a  red 
gold  and  a  white  gold  which  produce  an  admirable  effect 
when  blended.  In  short,  I  have  never  seen  anything  at 
once  so  bewitching  and  splendid.  The  tastes  of  these  sav- 
ages is  singular,  in  that  their  fabrics  are  not  glaring,  al- 
though they  use  only  brilliant  silks,  gold,  and  silver.  All 
this  is  marvelously  combined,  producing  on  the  whole  a 
quiet  and  harmonious  effect. 

London,  British  Museum,  July,  1861. — You  know,  or  you 
do  not   know,  that  there    is   a    new    Lord  Chancellor,  Lord 

B ,    who   is    old,  but    his    morals   by  no   means   so.     A 

lawyer  named  Stevens  sends  his  clerk  with  a  card  for  the 
Chancellor  ;  the  clerk  makes  inquiries,  and  is  told  that  my 
lord  has  no  house  in  London,  but  that  he  often  comes 
from  the  country  to   Oxford    Terrace,  where  he  has  a  tern- 


224  MERIMEE 

porary  lodging.  Thither  the  clerk  proceeds  and  asks  for 
my  lord.  (<  He  is  not  here.  ■  <(  Do  you  think  he  will  re- 
turn for  dinner  ?  *  *  No,  but  to  sleep,  certainly  ;  he  sleeps 
here  every  Monday.8  The  clerk  leaves  the  letter,  and  Mr. 
Stevens  is  greatly  astonished  that  the  Chancellor  should 
look  frightfully  black  at  him.  The  gist  of  the  story  is, 
that  my  lord  maintains  a  clandestine  mSnage. 

I  have  not  had  a  moment's  rest  since  my  arrival  ;  dinner 
parties,  balls,  and  concerts  without  cessation.  Yesterday  I 
attended  a  concert  at  the  Marquis  of  Lansdowne's  where 
there  was  not  a  single  pretty  woman,  a  remarkable  circum- 
stance here  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  they  were  all  dressed 
as  if  the  first  modiste  of  Brionde  had  composed  their 
toilet.  I  have  never  seen  anything  to  parallel  their  head- 
dresses ;  one  ancient  dame,  who  wore  a  diamond  crown 
composed  of  small  stars  with  a  huge  sun  in  the  centre,  be- 
ing an  absolute  counterpart  of  the  wax  figures  that  one 
sees  at  fairs. 

Yesterday  I  dined  at  Greenwich  with  some  great  person- 
ages who  exerted  themselves  to  be  lively,  not  like  the  Ger- 
mans by  throwing  themselves  from  the  windows,  but  by 
making  an  excessive  noise.  The  dinner  was  abominably 
long,  but  the  white  bait  excellent.  We  have  unpacked  two 
cases  of  antiquities  just  arrived  from  Cyrene.  There  are 
two  statues  and  several  remarkable  busts,  one  of  a  good 
period  and  quite  Greek  ;  a  Bacchus,  that  is  especially  cap- 
tivating though  with  rather  a  mincing  expression,  the  head 
being  in  an  extraordinary  state  of  preservation. 

M.  de  Vidil  is  committed  and  will  be  tried  at  the  next 
assizes.  He  is  not  admitted  to  bail,  and  the  worst  that  can 
happen  to  him  will  be  a  sentence  of  imprisonment  for  two 
years ;  for  where  death  does  not  supervene  the  English  law 
does  not  recognize  murder. 
^  Lord  Lyndhurst  said  to  me  that  one  must  be  extremely 
maladroit  to  be  hung  in  England.  I  went  the  other  even- 
ing  to  the  House  of  Commons  and  heard  the  debate  on 
Sardinia.  Anything  more  verbose,  more  pointless  {gobe- 
mouche),  and  fuller  of  braggadocio  than  the  majority  of  the 
speakers  it  is  impossible  to  imagine,  and  notably  so  Lord 
John  Russell,  now  Earl  Russell. 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  225 

I  have  been  interrupted  by  a  visit  to  the  bank.  They 
placed  in  my  hand  four  small  packages  amounting  to  four 
million  pounds  sterling,  but  I  was  not  allowed  to  bring 
them  away.  They  showed  me  a  very  pretty  machine  that 
counts  and  weighs  three  thousand  sovereigns  per  day.  It 
hesitates  a  moment,  and  after  a  short  deliberation  throws 
the  good  sovereign  to  the  right  and  the  bad  to  the  left. 
There  is  another  that  takes  a  bank  bill,  stoops  and  gives 
it,  as  it  were,  two  little  kisses,  impressing  on  it  marks  that 
forgers  have  not  as  yet  been  able  to  imitate.  Finally,  I 
was  conducted  to  the  vaults,  where  I  might  have  imagined 
myself  in  a  grotto  of  the  <(  Arabian  Nights  ■  ;  all  filled  with 
sacks  of  gold  and  ingots  sparkling  in  the  gaslight. 

Paris,  August,  1861. —  I  do  not  know  whether  in  conse- 
quence of  too  much  turtle  soup,  or  exposure  to  the  sun, 
but  I  have  again  suffered  from  my  former  agonizing  pains, 
which  must  resemble  those  of  hanging,  and  which  create  in 
me  no  desire  to  be  suspended.  After  six  weeks  of  dinner 
parties  I  find  it  very  comfortable  not  to  don  a  white  cravat. 
I  passed  a  week  in  Suffolk  County  in  a  fine  chdteau,  almost 
in  solitude.  It  is  a  flat  country,  but  covered  with  magnifi- 
cent timber,  with  much  water ;  it  is  very  near  the  fens 
whence  Cromwell  came.  The  quantity  of  game  is  astonish- 
ing, and  at  every  step  one  runs  the  risk  of  crushing 
partridges  or  pheasants. 

Should  Madame  de  Montijo  go  to  Biarritz  I  shall  join 
her  and  pass  some  days  with  her.  She  is  inconsolable,  and 
I  find  her  even  more  sad  than  last  year  when  her  daugh- 
ter died. 

I  see  by  your  letter  that  you  are  as  much  occupied  as  a 
general-in-chief  on  the  eve  of  battle.  I  remember  reading 
in  "Tristram  Shandy,"  that  in  the  house  with  a  newly 
born  babe  all  the  women  believe  themselves  entitled  to  tyr- 
annize over  the  men  ;  and  I  feared  to  be  treated  with  the 
disdain  inseparable  from  your  present  height  of  grandeur. 
For  myself,  I  am  but  slightly  inclined  to  love  children ; 
nevertheless,  I  can  imagine  that  one  may  be  attached  to  a 
little  girl  as  to  a  kitten,  an  animal  to  which  your  sex  bear 
a  strong  resemblance.  There  is  perfect  solitude  here,  by 
15 


226  m£rim£e 

which  I  profit  in  preparing  something  promised  to  my  mas- 
ter, and  which  I  wish  to  take  to  Biarritz.  I  read  little  ex- 
cept Roman  history  ;  nevertheless,  I  have  read  M.  Thiers' s 
nineteenth  volume  with  great  pleasure.  It  strikes  me  as 
being  written  with  greater  negligence  than  its  predecessors, 
but  full  of  curious  matter.  In  spite  of  his  desire  to  speak 
ill  of  his  hero,  he  is  continually  carried  away  by  his  invol- 
untary love.  He  gives  exceedingly  amusing  stories  of 
Montrond,  to  whom  I  only  regret  not  having  related  them 
while  he  was  living.  M.  Thiers  paints  him  correctly  as  an 
adventurer  in  love  with  his  trade,  and  honest  toward  his 
employers  during  the  period  of  his  service,  much  the  same 
as  Dalgetty  in  the  <(  Legend  of  Montrose.  * 

Biarritz,  September,  1861. —  I  am  still  here,  dear  friend, 
like  a  bird  on  a  branch.  It  is  not  the  custom  here  to 
make  plans  in  advance,  indeed  they  are  resolved  on  only 
at  the  last  moment.  It  is  excessively  cold  after  dinner,  it 
being  impossible  to  keep  warm  with  the  system  of  doors 
and  windows  that  has  been  contrived  here.  The  sea  air  is 
of  service,  and  I  breathe  more  easily,  but  sleep  badly,  as 
I  am  immediately  on  the  shore,  for  the  slightest  wind 
rouses  the  waves  to  a  terrific  uproar.  Time  passes  here  as 
in  all  imperial  residences  —  in  doing  nothing  and  in  wait- 
ing that  something  may  be  done.  I  work  a  little,  sketch 
from  my  window,  and  walk  a  great  deal.  There  are  but 
few  persons  at  the  Villa  Eugenie,  and  all  agreeable.  Yes- 
terday we  took  a  charming  walk  along  the  Pyr£n£es,  suf- 
ficiently near  the  mountains  to  see  them  in  all  their  beauty 
and  escaping  the  discomfort  of  constant  ascents  and  de- 
scents. We  lost  our  way  and  found  only  people  who  were 
ignorant  of  our  fine  French  tongue :  and  this  happens  as 
soon  as  one  quits  the  suburbs  of  Bayonne. 

Yesterday  the  Prince  Imperial  gave  a  dinner  party  to  a 
troupe  of  his  young  friends.  The  Emperor  himself  mixed 
the  champagne  with  seltzer-water,  but  the  effect  was  the 
same  as  if  they  had  drunk  the  pure  wine.  They  were  all 
tipsy  a  quarter  of  an  hour  afterward,  and  my  ears  still 
ache  with  the  noise  they  made.  I  boldly  undertook  to 
translate  a    Spanish   memoir  respecting   the    site   of   Munda 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  227 

for  His  Majesty,  which  I  begin  to  perceive  is  terribly  difficult 
reading.  I  am  working  like  a  negro  for  my  master,  whom 
I  shall  go  to  see  in  a  few  days. 

Compiegne,  November,  1861. —  Our  anticipated  fetes  have 
been  postponed  by  the  death  of  His  Majesty  of  Portugal. 
As  lions  we  have  four  Highlanders  in  kilts,  the  Duke  of 
Athol,  Lord  James  Murray,  with  the  son  and  nephew  of 
the  Duke.  It  is  droll  enough  to  see  these  eight  bare  knees 
in  a  drawing-room  where  all  the  men  are  in  knee  breeches  or 
pantaloons.  Yesterday  His  Grace's  piper  was  introduced, 
and  they  all  four  danced  in  a  way  to  alarm  the  company 
when  they  whirled  about.  But  there  are  some  ladies  here 
whose  crinoline  is  still  more  alarming  as  they  enter  a  car- 
riage. As  lady  guests  are  not  obliged  to  wear  mourning, 
legs  of  every  color  are  seen,  the  red  stockings  having  a 
very  good  effect.  In  spite  of  walks  through  damp,  icy 
woods,  and  red-hot  drawing-rooms,  I  have  escaped  a  cold  ; 
but  I  am  oppressed   and  do  not  sleep. 

I  was  present  at  the  great  ministerial  comedy,  where  we 
were  in  expectation  of  several  additional  victims.  The 
faces  were  a  study,  the  speeches  still  more  so ;  inasmuch  as 
M.  Walewski,  the  tottering  Excellency,  paraded  his  griefs 
indiscriminately  to  friends  and  enemies.  An  inveterate  prej- 
udice is  the  strongest  provocation  to  the  utterance  of  non- 
sense, especially  when  one  is  in  the  habit  of  it.  Oh  human 
platitude  !  His  wife,  on  the  contrary,  was  wonderfully  cool 
and  self-possessed.  What  is  said  of  the  Emperor's  letter? 
He  has  a  way  peculiar  to  himself  of  saying  things,  and 
where  he  speaks  as  a  sovereign  contrives  to  convey  the 
impression  that  he  is  of  a  finer  porcelain.  I  believe  it  to 
be  precisely  what  is  needed  by  our  high-toned  nation  which 
has  no  love  for  common  clay. 

Yesterday  the  Princess  of  ,  when  taking  tea,  asked  a 

footman,  in  her   German  accent,   (<  De  lui  aborder  ti  sel  bour 
le   bain.n      After    a    quarter  of   an   hour  the   man   returned- 
with  thirty  pounds   of   bay  salt,  supposing   that  she  wished    ~ 
to  take  a  salt  bath. 

A  picture  by  Miiller,  representing  Queen  Marie  Antoi- 
nette  in   prison,  was   lately   brought   to  the  Empress.     The 


/ 


228  MERIMEE 

Prince  Imperial  asked  who  this  lady  was  and  why  she 
was  not  in  a  palace.  They  explained  to  him  that  it  was  a 
Queen  of  France,  and  told  him  the  meaning  of  a  prison. 
He  immediately  ran  off  to  ask  the  Emperor  to  be  pleased 
to  pardon  this  Queen  whom  he  kept  in  prison.  He  is  an 
odd  child,  and  sometimes  terrible.  He  says  that  he  al- 
ways bows  to  the  people  because  they  drove  away  Louis 
Philippe  who  was  not  on  good  terms  with  them.  He  is  a 
charming  child. 

Cannes,  January,  1862. —  I  have  here  as  neighbor  and 
companion  M.  Cousin,  who  has  come  to  be  cured  of  laryn- 
gitis, and  who  talks  like  a  one-eyed  magpie,  eats  like  an 
ogre,  and  is  surprised  he  does  not  get  well  under  this  beau- 
tiful sky,  which  he  sees  for  the  first  time.  He  is,  more- 
over, very  amusing,  for  he  has  the  tact  to  draw  out 
every  one  around  him.  I  believe  that  when  he  is  alone 
with  his  servant  he  talks  with  him  as  with  the  most  co- 
quettish Orleanist  or  Legitimist  Duchess.  The  Cannites, 
pur  sang,  cannot  get  over  their  astonishment,  and  you 
may  fancy  their  look  on  being  told  that  this  man,  who 
talks  on  every  subject,  and  talks  well,  has  translated 
Plato  and  is  the  lover  of  Madame  de  Longueville.  The 
inconvenient  part  of  it  is  that  he  does  not  know  when  to 
stop  talking.  For  an  eclectic  philosopher  it  is  a  misfortune 
not  to  have  adopted  the  conspicuous  virtue  of  the  sect  of 
peripatetics. 

How  do  you  govern  the  little  children  who  absorb  you 
so  much?  It  appears  to  be  an  interesting  occupation.  The 
worst  thing  about  children  is  their  tardy  development  which 
leaves  us  so  long  uncertain  if  they  have  mind  or  power  of 
reasoning ;  it  is  vexatious  that  their  struggling  intelligence 
cannot  be  demonstrated  by  themselves.  The  main  question 
is  to  know  whether  we  shall  talk  sense  or  nonsense  to 
them  ;  each  system  has  its  pros  and  cons.  I  have  made 
the  acquaintance  of  a  poor  cat  that  lives  in  a  cabin 
deep  in  the  woods  ;  I  carry  it  bread  and  meat  every  day, 
and  it  runs  a  quarter  of  a  league  to  meet  me.  I  re- 
gret not  being  able  to  carry  it  off,  for  it  has  marvelous 
instincts. 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  229 

London,  British  Museum,  May,  1862. —  Frankly,  the  Ex- 
hibition is  something  of  a  failure.  True,  everything  is  not 
yet  unpacked,  but  the  building  is  horrible ;  although  very 
large  it  does  not  impress  one  with  its  size,  and  one  must 
walk  and  be  lost  in  it  to  appreciate  its  extent.  The  Eng- 
lish have  made  great  progress  in  taste  and  the  art  of  ar- 
rangement ;  we  make  furniture  and  painted  paper  assuredly 
better  than  they,  but  we  are  in  a  deplorable  path,  and  if 
this  continue  we  shall  be  distanced.  Our  jury  is  presided 
over  by  a  German  who  speaks  English  that  is  nearly  in- 
comprehensible, and  nothing  can  be  more  absurd  than  our 
conferences ;  no  one  even  understands  what  subject  is  under 
discussion.  Nevertheless,  we  vote.  The  worst  of  it  is,  that 
in  our  division  there  are  some  English  manufacturers,  and 
medals  must  necessarily  be  given  to  these  gentlemen,  who 
do  not  merit  them.  I  am  bombarded  by  speeches  and  routs. 
Two  days  ago  I  dined  with  Lord  Granville.  There  were 
three  small  tables  in  a  long  gallery,  which  arrangement  was 
expected  to  promote  general  conversation,  but  as  the  guests 
were  but  slightly  known  to  each  other  nearly  a  general 
silence  prevailed.  In  the  evening  I  went  to  Lord  Palmers- 
ton's,  where  the  Japanese  Embassy  wore  great  swords 
which  kept  getting  caught  in  all  the  women's  dresses. 
I  saw  some  women  who  were  very  beautiful  and  others 
who  were  very  ugly ;  both  making  a  complete  exhibition  of 
their  personal  charms ;  some  attractive,  others  quite  the  re- 
verse ;  but  each  one  displaying  the  same  assurance. 

London,  June,  1862. —  I  read  my  report  yesterday  to  the 
International  Jury,  in  the  purest  Anglo-Saxon,  not  a  word 
drawn  from  the  French.  In  vain  do  the  Commissioners  appeal 
and  beat  the  drum,  they  cannot  attract  a  crowd.  Since  the 
price  has  been  reduced  to  a  shilling  fashionable  people  no 
longer  go,  and  the  lower  class  seem  to  find  little  pleasure 
in  it.  The  restaurants  are  detestable,  the  American  res- 
taurant being  the  amusing  feature,  where  may  be  found 
more  or  less  diabolical  beverages  that  one  drinks  through  a 
straw:  mint  julep  or  "raise  the  dead.w  All  of  these 
drinks  are  disguised  gin.  I  am  tired  out  with  British  hos- 
pitality and  dinners  which  give  the    idea    of   all   being   pre- 


) 


230 


m£rim£e 


pared  by  the  same  inexpert  cook.  You  cannot  imagine  how 
I  long  for  a  plate  of  soup  from  my  own  pot-au-feu. 

I  do  not  know  which  of  two  recent  important  events  has 
produced  the  greatest  effect, —  one,  the  defeat  of  the  two 
Derby  favorites  by  an  unknown  horse ;  the  other,  the  defeat 
of  the  Tories  in  the  House  of  Commons.  The  number  of 
mournful  faces  in  London  was  really  ludicrous.  A  young 
married  lady  at  the  races  fainted  on  learning  that  Marquis 
was  beaten  a  head's  length  by  a  rustic  without  pedigree. 
Mr.  Disraeli  puts  a  better  face  on  the  matter  and  shows 
himself,  at  every  ball. 

Paris,  July,  1862. — Madame  de  Montijo  arrived  last 
week,  so  changed  that  it  is  distressing  to  see  her.  Nothing 
consoles  her  for  the  death  of  her  daughter,  and  I  find  her 
less  resigned  even  than  on  the  day  of  her  death.  I  dined 
last  week  at  Saint-Cloud  with  a  small  circle  quite  agreeably, 
and  where  the  feeling  struck  me  as  being  less  papistic 
than  is  generally  supposed.  I  was  permitted  to  scandalize 
matters  without  being  called  to  order.  The  little  prince  is 
charming.  He  has  grown  two  inches  and  is  the  prettiest 
child  I  have  seen. 

Bagnisres-de-Bigorre,  The  Upper  Pyrenees,  1862. —  I 
have  arrived  here  with  M.  Panizzi  after  a  little  tour  beneath 
a  terrible  sun,  and  find  weather  worthy  of  London  :  fogs 
and  an  imperceptible  rain  that  penetrates  to  one's  bones. 
The  physician  of  this  watering-place  is  an  old  comrade  of 
mine  who  has  auscultated  me  and  punched  my  chest  and 
back,  discovering  two  mortal  ailments  of  which  he  under- 
takes to  cure  me,  provided  that  I  drink  daily  two'  glasses 
from  the  hot  mineral  spring,  which  is  not  ill-tasting ;  and 
that  I  bathe  in  a  warm  spring  that  is  very  agreeable  to  the 
skin.  Already  I  am  better.  There  are  not  many  persons 
here,  the  English  and  the  grapes  having  failed  this  season. 

In  point  of  beauty  we  have   Mademoiselle   A.    D ,  who 

formerly   captivated    Prince    .      I    have    only   seen    her 

back,  and  she  wears  the  vastest  crinoline  to  be  found  in  all 
the  country.  Balls  are  given  twice  a  week,  which  I  shall 
not  attend,  and  amateur  concerts,  which  I    shall  religiously 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  231 

avoid.  Yesterday  I  was  compelled  to  undergo  a  musical 
mass,  to  which  I  was  conducted  by  gensdarmes ;  but  the 
soirie  given  by  the  Sub-Prefect  I  declined,  not  to  accumu- 
late too  many  catastrophes  in  a  single  day.  I  should  like  to 
show  you  the  incomparable  verdure  of  this  region,  to  talk 
with  you  beneath  the  shade  of  the  great  beech-trees,  and 
make  you  drink  the  bright  water  for  which  crystal  would 
be  no  fitting  comparison.  The  petty  quarrels  and  occupa- 
tions of  which  you  complain  are  lamentably  incidental  to  a 
provincial  place,  and  one  can  only  deplore  the  fate  of  per- 
sons condemned  to  live  there.  Nevertheless  it  is  certain 
that  in  the  course  of  a  few  months  'one  sinks  to  the  level 
of  the  natives,  and  becomes  interested  in  provincial  inan- 
ities. The  confession  is  sad,  but  human  intelligence  accepts 
the  aliment  offered  and  with  satisfaction. 

Last  week  I  made  a  mountain  excursion  to  see  a  farm 
belonging  to  M.  Fould.  It  is  on  the  shore  of  a  small 
lake,  facing  one  of  the  finest  panoramas  imaginable,  sur- 
rounded by  great  trees,  a  rare  thing  in  France ;  and  one 
breakfasts  there  most  capitally.  He  has  many  magnifi- 
cent horses  and  oxen,  the  whole  managed  with  English 
order. 

Have  you  read  (<  Les  Miserables,  *  and  heard  what  is  said 
of  it?     This  is  another  of   the   subjects  in  respect  to  which    , 
I  find   the  human   species   below  that  of   the  gorilla.     The 
world  becomes  more  stupid  every  day.  ^/ 

Biarritz,  Villa  EugSnie,  September,  1862. —  Dear  friend, 
I  am  here  on  the  sea-shore,  breathing  more  easily  than  for 
a  long  time.  The  waters  of  Bagneres  made  me  ill,  a 
proof,  it  was  said,  of  their  beneficial  action  ;  but  on  leaving 
them  I  began  to  revive,  and  now  the  sea-air  and  perhaps 
also  the  superb  cuisine  have  perfected  my  cure.  There 
are  but  few  guests  at  the  Villa,  and  only  amiable  persons 
whom  I  have  long  known.  There  is  no  crowd  in  the 
town,  not  many  French,  the  Spaniards  and  Americans  pre- 
dominating. At  the  Thursday  receptions  at  the  Villa  the 
Northern  and  Southern  Americans  have  to  be  placed  on 
different  sides  of  the  salon,  lest  they  should  eat  each 
other.  ^ 


232  MERIMEE 

On  these  occasions  there  is  full  dress,  but  usually  there 
is  not  the  least  toilet ;  the  ladies  dine  in  high  dresses, 
and  we  of  the  ugly  sex  in  morning  coats.  There  is  not  a 
chateau  in  France  or  England  where  one  is  so  free  and 
without  etiquette,  nor  where  the  chatelaine  is  so  good  and 
so  gracious  to  her  guests.  We  take  beautiful  walks  in  the 
valleys  skirting  the  Pyr6nees,  returning  with  prodigious 
appetites.     The  lady  bathers  are,  as  usual,  very  odd  in  the 

matter  of  costume.     There  is  a   Madame  ,  the  color  of 

a  turnip,  who  arrays  herself  in  blue  and  powders  her  hair, 
—  the  powder,  however,  is  said  to  be  ashes,  with  which  she 
sprinkles  her  head  because  of  her  country's  misfortunes. 

Have  you  seen  Victor  Hugo's  speech  at  a  dinner  of  Bel- 
gian booksellers  and  other  swindlers  at  Brussels?  What  a 
pity  that  this  good  fellow,  who  has  such  fine  imagery  at 
his  command,  should  not  possess  an  iota  of  common  sense, 
nor  the  discretion  to  refrain  from  uttering  plaudits  un- 
worthy of  so  clever  a  man  !  I  find  more  poetry  in  his 
comparison  of  the  tunnel  and  railway  than  I  have  met  with 
in  any  book  these  five  years.  But  they  are,  after  all,  merely 
metaphors,  containing  nothing  of  depth,  solidity,  or  judg- 
ment. He  is  a  man  who  intoxicates  himself  with  his  own 
words  and  does  not  take  the  trouble  to  think.  The 
twentieth  volume  by  Thiers  pleases  me,  as  it  does  you.  I 
have  read  it  a  second  time  with  renewed  pleasure,  and 
shall  do  so  again.  It  was  immensely  difficult,  in  my 
opinion,  to  extract  anything  from  the  confused  rubbish  of 
the  St.  Helena  conversations  as  reported  by  I^as  Cases,  and 
Thiers  has  come  out  of  it  wonderfully  well.  I  am  also 
pleased  with  his  comparison  of  Napoleon  with  other  great 
men,  although  he  is  somewhat  severe  upon  Alexander  and 
Caesar ;  nevertheless,  there  is  much  truth  in  what  he  says 
as  to  the  absence  of  virtue  on  the  part  of  Caesar.  It  at- 
tracts great  interest,  here,  and  I  fear  that  there  is  not 
overmuch  love  for  the  hero ;  for  instance,  they  will  not 
concede  the  anecdote  of  Nicomedes,  nor  you  either,  I  fancy. 
Adieu  —  keep  well,  and  do  not  sacrifice  yourself  too  much 
for  others ;  they  will  come  to  accept  it  as  a  habit,  and 
what  is  now  a  pleasure  to  you,  will  perhaps  some  day  be- 
come an  irksome  duty. 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  233 

Paris,  October,  1862. — I  returned  from  Biarritz  with  my 
Sovereigns.  We  were  all  quite  doleful,  having  been 
poisoned,  as  I  believe,  by  verdigris.  The  cooks  swear 
that  they  scoured  their  saucepans,  but  I  do  not  credit  their 
oaths.  The  fact  is,  fourteen  persons  at  the  Villa  were 
seized  with  vomiting  and  cramps,  and  having  been  formerly 
poisoned  with  verdigris,  I  know  the  symptoms  and  hold  to 
my  opinion.  What  with  the  poisoning  and  the  political 
stir,  I  have  led  an  agitated  life.  I  have  been  divided  be- 
tween the  desire  that  M.  Fould  should  remain  in  the  Min- 
istry, in  the  interest  of  our  master,  and  the  wish  that  he 
should  resign  for  the  sake  of  his  own  dignity  and  personal 
advantage.  It  has  ended  by  concessions  which  have  bene- 
fited no  one,  while,  in  my  opinion,  they  have  lowered  the 
dramatis  persona.  The  joke  of  the  matter  is  that  Persigny, 
whom  the  non-papist  Ministers  cannot  endure,  has  become 
their  standard  bearer,  and  that  he  shall  continue  in  office 
they  have  made  the  condition  on  which  they  retain  their 
portfolios.  So,  Thouvenel,  an  intelligent,  very  good  fellow, 
has  been  dismissed,  while  Persigny,  who  is  crazy  and 
understands  nothing  of  business,  remains.  Here  we  are  \w 
then,  in  the  clutches  of  the  clergy,  and  you  know  where 
they  lead  their  friends. 

I  am  now  reading  a  book  that  may  entertain  you  :  the 
history  of  the  <(  Revolt  of  the  Netherlands,®  by  Motley. 
There  are  not  less  than  five  thick  volumes ;  but  although 
not  over  and  above  well  written,  it  is  smooth  in  style  and 
interesting.  He  yields  too  much  to  anti-Catholic  and  anti- 
Monarchical  prejudice,  but  he  has  made  immense  re- 
searches, and  though  an  American,  is  a  man  of  talent. 

I  am  suffering  with  my  lungs.  You  will  learn  some  day 
that  I  have  ceased  to  breathe  for  want  of  this  organ,  which 
should  induce  you  to  be  very  amiable  to  me  before  this 
misfortune  shall   occur. 

Cannes,  January,   1863.  —  I  have  received  the  last  novel 
by  M.   Gustave  Flaubert,   the  author  of  <(  Madame  Bovary,* 
which  I  believe    you    have    read,   though   you  will  not  con- 
fess it.     The  new  romance  is  (<  Salammbo,"  a  crazy  produc-    *yf 
tion  ;    but    the    writer   has    talent    which    he    fritters    away 


334  MERIMEE 

under  the  pretext  of  realism.  One  obtains  an  amusing  idea 
of  the  author,  and  a  still  more  ludicrous  one  of  his  ad- 
mirers, the  bourgeois,  who  discuss  such  things  with  decent 
people.  I  recommend  you  to  read  a  romance  by  M.  de 
Tourguenieff,  the  proofs  of  which  I  am  expecting  for 
the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  and  which  I  have  read  in 
Russian.  It  is  called  Les  Peres  ct  les  Enfants.  It  of- 
fers a  contrast  between  the  passing  and  coming  generation. 
The  hero,  the  representative  of  the  new  generation,  is  a 
socialist,  materialist,  and  realist,  nevertheless  a  sensible  and 
interesting  man.  This  novel  has  produced  a  great  sensa- 
tion in  Russia,  and  a  great  outcry  against  the  writer,  who 
is  accused  of  immorality  and  impiety.  When  a  work  ex- 
cites such  public  exasperation,  it  is,  in  my  opinion,  a 
signal  proof  of  success. 

Before  leaving  Paris  I  consulted  a«  eminent  physician, 
wishing  to  ascertain  how  long  a  time  would  be  allowed  to 
prepare  for  my  funeral  ceremonies.  I  was  satisfied  with 
the  consultation,  first,  because  the  ceremony  would  not  take 
place  so  soon  as  apprehended ;  secondly,  because  he  ex- 
plained clearly  and  anatomically  the  seat  of  my  malady  — 
not  the  heart,  but  the  lungs.  True,  I  can  never  be  cured, 
but  there  are  alleviations  for  my  suffering.  I  have  been  in 
bed  a  week  from  an  attack  of  spasms  and  suffocation,  hav- 
ing contracted  a  painful  lumbago,  the  effect  of  this  fine 
climate,  where,  so  long  as  the  sun  remains  above  the 
horizon  one  may  fancy  it  to  be  summer ;  but  as  soon  as  it 
disappears  we  have  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  damp  cold  that 
penetrates  to  one's  very  marrow. 

It  appears  that  they  are  becoming  more  and  more  reli- 
gious in  Paris.  I  receive  sermons  from  people  from  whom 
I  should  have  expected  something  quite  different.  I  am 
told  that  M.  de  Persigny  has  shown  himself  ultra  papist 
on  the  Senate's  committee  of  address.  I  do  not  believe 
that  there  was  ever  a  period  when  the  world  was  more 
senseless  {bete)  than  now.  Last  as  long  as  it  may,  the 
end  is  ominous. 

Paris,  April,  1863. — Of  all  the  Italian  cities,  Florence 
appears  to  me  to  have  best  preserved  her  characteristics  of 
the  Middle  Ages.     As  to  Rome  let   me  give    you    two    bits 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  235 

of  advice:  first,  never  to  be  a  moment  in  the  air  at  night- 
fall, for  fear  of  the  Roman  fever  ;  but  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
before  the  Angelus  go  to  St.  Peter's  and  wait  until  the 
strange,  damp  precipitate  in  the  air  shall  pass  by.  There 
is  nothing  finer  for  meditation  that  this  great  church 
at  that  hour,  the  indistinctness  of  its  vast  proportions 
makes  it  truly  sublime.  Think  of  me  when  there.  My 
second  recommendation  is  to  employ  a  rainy  day  in  seeing 
the  Catacombs.  When  there,  turn  into  one  of  the  narrow 
corridors  debouching  from  the  subterranean  streets,  extin- 
guish your  taper  and  remain  alone  for  a  few  moments. 
You  will  tell  me  your  sensations.  I  should  have  great 
pleasure  in  the  experience  with  you,  but  perhaps  our  sensa- 
tions would  not  be  the  same.  I  never  succeeded  in  Rome  in 
carrying  out  my  programme  of  sight-seeing,  for  at  each 
street  corner  one  is  drawn  off  by  something  unforeseen,  and 
the  great  charm  is  to  yield  to  impulse.  As  regards  objects 
of  art,  study  the  frescoes,  and  the  views  as  to  nature  and 
art  combined.  At  the  Capitol  make  them  show  you  the 
wolf  of  the  Republic,  which  bears  trace  of  the  thunderbolt 
that  struck  it  in  the  time  of  Cicero.  It  is  not  a  thing  of 
yesterday.  Try  to  understand  that  you  cannot  see  the 
hundredth  part  of  all  that  is  interesting,  and  do  not  regret 
it ;  there  will  remain  one  great,  harmonious  memory  worth 
more  than  a  crowd  of  souvenirs  in  detail.  Do  not  forget 
to  see  Pompey's  statue,  at  the  foot  of  which  Caesar  was  as- 
sassinated. Rome  is  pervaded  with  a  gentle,  agreeable 
melancholy  which  one  recalls  with  pleasure ;  for  a  vivid 
comparison  with  which  it  would  be  well  to  pass  a  week  at 
Naples.  Of  all  transitions  it  is  the  most  abrupt  and  amus-  ; 
ing  ;  it  is  comedy  succeeding  tragedy ;  and  sends  one  to  bed 
the  mind  filled  with  ludicrous  images. 

I  do  not  know  whether  the  cuisine  has  made  any  prog- 
ress in  the  States  of  the  Holy  Father,  but  in  my  time  it 
was  the  "abomination  of  desolation, *  while  in  Naples  it 
was  possible  to  subsist. 

Society  here  is  astir  with  the  actual  or  reputed  eccentrici- 
ties   of    Madame  de .     Certain    it  is  that    she    is   crazy 

enough  to  be  placed  under  restraint.     She  beats  her  servants, 
cuffs,  boxes   the   ears,  and  makes  love   to    her    favorites    in 


236  MfiRIMfiE 

the  same  breath.  She  carries  her  Anglo-mania  so  far  as  to 
drink  brandy  and  water,  that  is  to  say,  much  of  the  former 
with  little  of  the  latter.  The  other  evening  she  presented 
one  of  her  friends  to  M.  Troplong,  saying  :  t(  Monsieur  le 
President,  I  bring  you  my  darling.  ■  To  which  M.  Trop- 
long politely  replies,  that  he  is  happy  to  make  the  ac- 
quaintance of  M.  Darling.  If  all  that  is  told  me  of  the 
manners  of  the  liounes  be  true,  it  is  to  be  feared    that   the 

(end  of  the  world  is  near.  I  dare  not  tell  you  all  that  takes 
place  in  Paris  among  the  young  representatives  of  the  gen- 
eration that  is  to  bury  us. 

Chateau  de  Fontainebleau,  July,  1863. — No  one  has 
time  here  for  anything,  and  the  days  pass  one  knows  not 
how.  The  chief  occupation  is  eating,  drinking,  sleeping :  I 
succeed  in  the  first  two,  in  the  last  very  badly,  after  pass- 
ing several  hours  in  knee-breeches,  in  rowing  on  the  lake 
and  getting  a  frightful  cough.  There  are  many  well- 
assorted  guests  here,  fewer  officials  than  usual,  which  does 
not,  however,  detract  from  the  prevailing  entente  cor- 
diale.  Sometimes  we  walk  in  the  woods,  after  having 
picnicked  on  the  grass  like  tradesmen  from  the  Rue  St. 
Denis. 

Two  days  ago  some  very  large  chests  arrived  from  his 
Majesty  Tu-Duc,  Emperor  of  Cochin  China.  They  were 
opened  in  one  of  the  court-yards.  Within  the  large  cases 
were  smaller  ones  painted  in  red  and  gold,  containing  two 
very  yellow  elephant's  teeth,  two  rhinoceros'  horns,  and  a 
package  of  moldy  cinnamon,  the  whole  exhaling  incon- 
ceivable odors.  There  was  also  a  large  quantity  of  narrow 
gauze-like  stuffs,  of  every  ugly  color,  more  or  less  soiled, 
and  all  musty.  Medals,  that  were  among  the  expected 
gifts,  were  absent,  and  probably  remained  in  Cochin  China  ; 
from  which  it  appears  that  the  great  Tu-Duc  is  a  swindler. 
Yesterday  we  attended  the  manoeuvres  of  two  regiments  of 
cavalr>r,  and  were  all  cooked  by  the  heat ;  all  the  ladies 
had  a  sun-stroke.  To-day  we  are  to  have  a  Spanish  dinner 
in  the  Forest,  and  I  am  intrusted  with  the  gaspacho,  that 
is  to  say,  imposing  raw  onions  on  the  ladies,  who  would 
swoon  at  the  mere  mention  of  the   vegetable.     I    have    for- 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  237 

bidden  that  they  be  warned,  and  after  they  have  eaten  it, 
I  shall  make  my  confession  to  them  in  the  style  of  At- 
ieus. 

London,  Attgust,  1863. —  I  expected  to  find  London 
empty,  and  in  fact  such  was  my  first  impression  ;  but  at 
the  end  of  two  days  I  discovered  the  great  ant-hill  to  be 
still  swarming,  and,  alas !  that  they  dined  quite  as  often 
and  as  interminably  as  last  year.  Is  not  the  slowness  of 
the  dinners  inhuman  in  this  country  !  It  really  deprives 
me  of  appetite.  We  are  never  less  than  two  hours  and  a 
half  at  table,  and  if  the  half  hour  during  which  the  men 
leave  the  women  to  speak  ill  of  them  be  added,  it  is  always 
eleven  o'clock  when  we  return  to  the  drawing-room.  This 
would  be  but  a  demi-evil  could  one  eat  all  the  time ;  but, 
with  the  exception  of  the  roast  mutton,  I  find  nothing  to 
my  taste. 

The  great  men  seem  to  me  to  have  grown  somewhat  old 
since  my  last  visit.  Lord  Palmerston  has  given  up  his 
false  teeth,  which  changes  him  very  much  ;  but  has 
preserved  his  whiskers,  and  has  the  air  of  a  gay 
gorilla.  Lord  Russell  looks  less  good-humored.  The 
great  beauties  of  the  season  have  left  town,  but  they  are 
not  very  enthusiastically  lauded.  The  toilets,  as  usual, 
struck  me  as  very  inferior  and  crumpled  ;  but  nothing  can 
resist  this  climate,  of  which  my  throat  is  also  a  proof.  I 
am  hoarse  as  a  wolf,  and  suffer  from  suffocation.  On  my 
return  to  Paris,  Panizzi  will  join  me,  and  we  are  to  be 
carried  off  to  Biarritz  by  my  gracious  Sovereign  Lady,  who 
will  lodge  us  for  some  time  on  the  sea-shore. 

Have  you  read  Renan's  (( Life  of  Jesus ft?  It  is  the 
stroke  of  an  ax  to  the  edifice  of  Catholicism.  The  Bishop 
of  Tulle  has  issued  an  order  that  all  the  nuns  of  his  dio- 
cese shall  recite  Aves  in  M.  Renan's  honor,  or  rather  to 
hinder  the  devil  from  flying  off  with  everybody  because  of 
this  same  Renan's  book.  The  author  is  so  frightened  at 
his  own  audacity  in  denying  the  Divinity,  that  he  loses 
himself  in  hymns  of  admiration  and  adoration,  to  the  dis- 
paragement of  the  philosophical  intelligence  by  which  alone 
the  doctrine  is  to  be  judged. 


238  m£rim£e 

Chateau  de  Compiegne,  November,  1863. — Since  my 
arrival  here  I  have  led  the  perturbed  life  of  a  manager, 
having  been  author,  actor,  and  director.  We  have  played 
with  success  a  rather  immoral  piece,  of  which  I  will  tell 
you  the  story  on  my  return.  We  have  had  very  fine  fireworks, 
though  a  woman  who  examined  the  fusees  too  closely  was 
killed  outright.  You  do  not  tell  me  what  has  become  of 
the  charming  child  in  whom  you  are  interested.  Train  her, 
I  beg  of  you,  so  that  she  be  not  a  fool  like  the  majority 
of  women  of  the  present  day.  If  those  in  the  Provinces 
are  worse  than  in  Paris,  I  do  not  know  in  what  desert  we 
shall  seek  refuge.  We  have  here  a  fine  slip  of  a  girl,  five 
feet  four  inches  tall,  with  the  pretty  ways  of  a  grisette, 
and  a  mixture  of  ease  and  honest  timidity  sometimes  very 
amusing.  Some  fear  was  entertained  lest  the  second  part 
of  a  charade  should  not  correspond  with  the  beginning  — 
(a  beginning  of  which  I  was  the  author)  :  <(  It  will  go  off 
ver}'  well,*  said  she:  <(We  shall  show  our  legs  in  the  bal- 
let, and  that  will  make  up  for  all."  —  N.  B.  Her  legs  are 
like  flageolets  and  her  feet  are  far  from  aristocratic. 

Cannes,  January,  1864. —  I  am  charmed  that  Aristophanes 
is  so  fortunate  as  to  please  you.  There  are  doubtless  many 
things  that  shock  your  prudery,  but  which  will  interest  you 
now  that  you  have  learned  from  Cicero  something  of 
ancient  morals.  You  ask  if  the  Athenian  ladies  attended 
the  theatre.  Learned  men  are  divided  in  opinion  on  this 
point.  It  is  probable  that  tolerance  and  intolerance  pre- 
vailed at  different  periods  in  the  same  country,  but  it  is 
certain  that  women  never  appeared  on  the  stage,  their  r61es 
being  enacted  by  men,  which  was  the  more  easy  from  the 
custom  of  wearing  masks  during  the  performance.  In 
Algeria  you  would  have  found,  doubtless,  women  at  the 
play.  In  the  East,  they  have  not  now,  and  never  had  in 
ancient  times,  the  prudery  that  prevails  with  women  at  the 
present  day.  An  extraordinary  point  about  Aristophanes  is 
the  unrestrained  way  in  which  he  speaks  of  the  gods,  even 
on  the  occasion  of  their  festival,  for  it  was  at  the  Dionysia 
that  ((  The  Frogs n  was  represented,  in  which  Bacchus  plays 
so  singular  a  part.     The  same  thing  took  place  in  the  first 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  239 

ages  of  Christianity.  Comedies  were  played  in  church. 
There  was  the  mass  <(  des  sots,"  and  the  mass  "del'Ane," 
the  text  of  which  still  remains  in  a  very  curious  manu- 
script. Apart  from  the  nonsense  that  Aristophanes  threw 
into  his  comedies  as  a  seasoning  of  coarse  salt,  there  are 
choruses  of  the  finest  poetry.  My  venerated  master,  M. 
Boissonade,  was  of  opinion  that  no  Greek  had  surpassed 
them.  I  recommend  you  to  read  (<  The  Clouds, B  the  mas- 
terpiece of  Aristophanes.  There  is  in  it  a  dialogue  between 
the  Just  and  the  Unjust,  of  the  most  elevated  style.  I 
think  there  is  truth  in  his  reproaches  against  Socrates ; 
even  after  listening  to  him  in  Plato,  one  is  tempted  to  for- 
give the  hemlock.  A  man  is  a  pest  who,  like  Socrates, 
proves  every  one  to  be  only  a  fool. 

Paris,  April,  1864. —  I  rarely  go  into  society,  but  I 
wished  to  pay  my  respects  to  my  masters,  whom  I  found 
in  excellent  health  ;  which  gave  me  also  an  opportunity  of 
seeing  the  new  fashions,  which  I  admire  but  indifferently. 
It  is  a  sign  of  old  age.  I  cannot  become  accustomed  to 
the  mode  of  dressing  the  hair.  Not  a  woman  adopts  the 
style  suited  to  her  own  face ;  but  all  model  themselves 
after  the  barber's  blocks.  One  of  my  friends  presented  me 
to  his  wife,  a  young  and  pretty  person,  who  was  whitened, 
daubed  with  rouge,  and  her  eyelashes  painted.  I  was 
horrified. 

Have  you  read  About's  book,  Le  Progrts?  I  do  not 
know  if  it  is  successful,  but  it  is  very  witty.  Perhaps  the 
clericals  have  had  the  good  sense  to  withhold  the  ex- 
communication that  never  fails  to  insure  wide  circulation  to 
a  work.  It  was  their  fulmination  that  secured  Renan  great 
pecuniary  profit ;  his  idyl  having  brought  him  one  hundred 
and  seven  thousand  francs.  I  keep  subject  to  your  order 
Taine's  three  thick  volumes  on  the  history  of  English 
Literature.  The  style  is  of  a  somewhat  studied  elegance, 
but  very  pleasant  reading. 

London,  British  Museum,  July,  1864.  —  From  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening  until  midnight  my  life  is  passed  at 
dinner  parties,  and   the    morning    in    looking   at   books  and 


J*+. 


< 


240  m£rim£e 

statues :  or  I  work  at  my  great  article  on  the  son  of  Peter 
the  Great,  which  I  am  strongly  inclined  to  entitle,  <(  The 
Dangerof  being  a  Fool }> ;  for  the  moral  drawn  from  the 
work  is  that  intellect  is  a  necessity.  You  may  find  here 
and  there  something  to  interest  you ;  notably,  how  Peter 
the  Great  —  a  detestable  man  and  surrounded  by  detestable 
canaille — was  deceived  by  his  wife.  I  have  carefully,  and 
with  some  difficulty,  translated  his  wife's  love  letters  to 
her  lover,  who  was  impaled  for  his  pains.  These  letters 
are  really  better  than  could  be  expected  from  the  age  and 
the  country  in  which  they  were  written ;  but  love  works 
wonders.  The  misfortune  is  that  she  knows  nothing  of 
orthography,  thereby  rendering  her  meaning  somewhat  ob- 
scure to  a  grammarian  like  myself. 

Nothing  is  talked  of  here  but  the  marriage  of  Lady 
Florence  Paget,  the  beauty  of  London,  the  last  two  sea- 
sons. It  would  be  impossible  to  find  a  prettier  face  on  a 
more  delicate  figure,  too  slight  and  small  for  my  special 
taste.  She  was  noted  for  her  flirtations.  Mr.  Ellice's 
nephew,  Mr.  Chaplin,  of  whom  you  have  often  heard  me 
speak,  a  tall  young  fellow  of  twenty-five,  and  with  twenty- 
five  thousand  pounds  per  annum,  fell  in  love  with  her.  She 
trifled  with  him  a  long  time,  finally  became  engaged  to  him, 
and,  it  is  said,  accepted  from  him  jewels  and  six  thousand 
pounds  with  which  to  pay  her  mantuamaker's  bills.  The 
wedding  day  was  arranged,  and  last  Friday  they  went  to- 
gether to  the  park  and  the  opera.  On  Saturday  morning 
she  left  home  alone,  and  proceeding  to  St.  George's 
Church  was  married  to  Lord  Hastings,  a  young  man  of  her 
own  age,  very  ugly,  and  possessed  of  a  slight  fault  —  a 
passion  for  cards  and  wine.  After  the  ceremony  they 
started  for  the  country,  and  at  the  first  station  she  wrote 
to  her  father,  the  Marquis  of  Anglesey:  <(  Dear  Papa  —  As 
I  knew  you  would  never  consent  to  my  marriage  with 
Lord  Hastings,  I  was  wedded  to  him  to-day.  I  remain 
yours,  etc."  She  also  wrote  to  Mr.  Chaplin:  "Dear 
Harry  —  When  you  receive  this  I  shall  be  the  wife  of  Lord 
Hastings.  Forget  yours,  very  truly,  Florence. 9  Poor  Mr. 
Chaplin,  who  is  six  feet  high  and  has  yellow  hair,  is  in 
despair. 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  241 

Madrid,  October,  1864. —  It  is  terribly  cold  and  damp,  and 
every  one  is  ill,  the  bad  weather  having  come  upon  us  with 
excessive  violence,  according  to  the  custom  of  this  country, 
where  gentle  transitions,  of  whatsoever  nature,  are  un- 
known. Imagine  the  misery  of  people  who  live  on  an 
elevated  plateau  exposed  to  every  wind  of  heaven,  their 
only  stove  being  a  brasero,  a  very  primitive  contrivance, 
giving  one  the  choice  of  being  frozen  or  asphyxiated. 
Civilization  has  made  great  progress  here,  but  without  a 
corresponding  improvement.  The  women  have  adopted  jrour 
absurd  hats  and  wear  them  in  the  most  uncouth  fashion. 
The  bulls  are  worthless,  and  the  men  who  kill  them  are 
stupid  and  cowardly. 

Cannes,  January,  1865. —  What  do  you  think  of  the 
Pope's  encyclical?  I  delight  in  reading  the  letters  from 
the  Bishops.  There  is  a  Bishop  here,  a  man  of  wit  and 
good  sense,  who  veils  his  face.  There  are  few  attorneys 
more  subtle  than  these  gentlemen  ;   but   the  most  ingenious 

is  M.  D ,  who  makes  the  Pope  say  precisely  the  contrary 

of  las  encyclical  and  he  may  possibly  be  excommunicated 
at  Rome.  It  is  vexatious  to  serve  in  an  army  the  general 
of  which  exposes  one  to  defeat.  Do  they  hope  at  Rome 
that  the  Marches,  the  Legations,  and  the  County  of  Avignon 
will  be  restored  to  them  by  a  miracle?  The  misfortune  is, 
that  the  world  is  so  stupid  that  to  escape  the  Jesuits  it 
may  be  necessary  to  throw  ourselves  into  the  arms  of  mere 
blusterers. 

The  number  of  English  here  becomes  more  alarming  every 
day.  A  hotel  as  large  as  that  of  the  Louvre  has  been  built 
on  the  sea-shore,  which  is  always  filled  with  these  Island- 
ers. One  can  no  longer  walk  without  meeting  young 
Misses  in  Garibaldi  caracos  and  hats  with  impossible  feathers, 
making  a  pretense  of  sketching.  There  are  croquet  and 
archery  parties  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  persons.  I  regret 
the  good  old  times  when  one  never  met  a  soul. 

Do    you   know   that    I    received    compliments   from  every 

quarter  on   my  appointment   as   successor   to  M.  Mocquard? 

I  believed  nothing  of  it,  but  by  dint  of  seeing  my  name  in 

the  newspapers  of   various   countries  I  began  to  be  uneasy. 

16 


242  MERIMEE 

With  my  disposition  you  may  believe  how  well  the  position 
and  I  should  agree  ! 

Imagine  my  reading  Lamartine's  <(  Entretiens, ■  in  which 
I  fell  on  a  life  of  Aristotle,  wherein  he  states  that  the  re- 
treat of  the  ten  thousand  took  place  after  the  death  of 
Alexander.  Would  it  not  really  be  better  worth  while  to 
sell  steel  pens  at  the  gate  of  the  Tuileries  than  to  utter 
such  enormities? 

Cannes,  April,  1865. —  Your  friend  Paradol  is  Academi- 
cian through  the  will  of  the  burgraves,  who  for  this  pur- 
pose obliged  the  poor  Due  de  Broglie  to  return  to  Paris  in 
spite  of  his  gout  and  eighty  years.  It  will  be  a  curious 
sitting.  Ampere  once  wrote  a  very  bad  history  of  Caesar, 
and  you  may  imagine  all  the  allusions  that  M.  Paradol  will 
take  occasion  to  make  to  this  work,  now  forgotten  by  every 
one  save  the  burgraves.  Jules  Janin  remains  outside  of  the 
door,  as  also  my  friend  Autran  from  Marseilles,  who,  as- 
suming the  clerical,  was  abandoned  by  his  religious  friends. 

You  have  heard,  perhaps,  that  Mr.  William  Brougham, 
brother  of  Lord  Brougham,  and  his  successor  in  the  peer- 
age, has  been  caught  in  the  fact  in  a  very  ugly  matter  of 
cheating.  It  causes  great  scandal  here  among  the  English 
colony.  Old  Lord  Brougham  puts  a  good  face  on  it,  and 
is,  of  course,  a  perfect  stranger  to  all  such  villainy. 

To  teach  myself  patience,  and  to  woo  sleep,  I  am  reading 
a  book  by  Mr.  Charles  Lambert,  who  demolishes  holy  King 
David  and  the  Bible.  I  find  it  very  ingenious  and  rather 
amusing.  Serious  and  pedantic  books  at  which  ten  years 
ago  no  one  would  have  dreamed  of  glancing,  have  now, 
thanks  to  the  clergy,  become  popular  and  widely  read. 
Renan  has  gone  to  Palestine  to  make  new  studies  of  land- 
scape ;  Peyrat  and  this  Charles  Lambert  are  writing  books 
still  more  serious  and  learned  which  sell  like  bread,  my 
bookseller  tells  me. 

London,  British  Museum,  August,  1865. —  I  have  been 
here  about  six  weeks,  catching  a  few  days  of  (<the  season, }> 
and  have  undergone  some  terrible  dinners  and  two  or  three 
of  the  last  routs.     Lord    Palmerston    strikes   me    as   having 


LETTERS   TO   ANONYMA  243 

grown  singularly  old,  notwithstanding  the  success  of  his 
elections,  and  it  seems  to  me  more  than  doubtful  if  he  be 
equal  to  the  approaching  campaign.  His  retirement  will 
insure  a  fine  crisis.  I  have  just  passed  three  days  with 
his  probable  successor,  Mr.  Gladstone,  who  did  not  amuse, 
but  interested  me,  for  I  still  find  great  pleasure  in  observ- 
ing varieties  of  human  nature,  and  here  they  are  so  differ- 
ent from  our  own  as  to  excite  an  inexplicable  wonder 
that  within  ten  hours'  distance  bipeds  without  feathers 
should  so  little  resemble  those  of  Paris.  In  some  respects 
Mr.  Gladstone  appears  to  me  a  man  of  genius,  in  others  a 
child.  There  is  in  him  something  of  the  child,  the  states- 
man, and  the  fou.  Five  or  six  deans  were  at  his  house, 
and  every  morning  the  guests  regaled  themselves  with  a 
little  prayer  in  common.  I  did  not  attend  that  of  Sunday 
which  must  be  something  very  curious.  What  surpassed 
everything  was  a  sort  of  half-cooked  roll  that  is  taken  hot 
from  the  oven  for  breakfast,  the  digestion  of  which  gives 
one  infinite  trouble  the  rest  of  the  day.  In  addition  to 
this  we  had  hard  civrn,  that  is  to  say,  Welsh  ale,  which 
is  very  celebrated.  You  doubtless  know  that  only  red  hair 
is  worn.  Nothing  could  be  easier  in  this  country,  and  I 
am  quite  sure  it  is  not  dyed.  Not  a  single  horse  is  to  be 
seen  in  Rotten  Row ;  but  I  rather  like  a  great  city  in  this 
state  of  semi-death.  I  profit  by  it  to  see  the  lions.  Yes- 
terday I  passed  an  hour  at  the  Crystal  Palace  watching  a 
chimpanzee  nearly  as  large  as  a  child  ten  years  old,  and 
whom  it  so  strongly  resembled  in  its  actions  as  to  humili- 
ate me  by  the  incontestable  relationship.  I  begin  to  tire 
of  London,  and  thought  for  a  moment  of  going  to  Scot- 
land, but  I  should  have  fallen  among  sportsmen,  a  race  I 
abhor. 


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(245) 


1 


LAMARTINE 


Twenty-Five  Years  of  My  Life 


U«> 


THE   GIRONDTNS 

Photogravure  after  the  painting  by  Delaroche. 


ALPHONSK   DE  LAMARTINE 

The  public  career  of  Alphonse  Marie  Louis  de  Prat  de 
Lamartine  was  a  varied  one  and  is  generally  familiar. 
He  was  born  in  1790  and  died  in  1869.  He  began 
his  political  life  as  a  legitimist,  then  he  leaned  to  the 
royalist  cause.  Later  on  he  was  a  constitutionalist  and  a 
republican.  The  times  were  stormy  for  stronger  men  than 
Lamartine  ever  was.  His  chief  work,  the  <(  History  of  the 
Girondists, M  paved  the  way  for  the  revolution  of  1848,  Its 
author  was  at  once  hoisted  into  public  office.  The  task  of 
sailing  the  ship  of  State  was  beyond  his  strength  and  not 
wholly  to  his  taste.  In  less  than  a  year  his  political  star 
had  risen  and  had  set  forever. 

As  poet  and  descriptive  writer  Lamartine  will  live, 
though  his  verse  had  become  moribund  before  he  died. 
He  wrote  his  histories  and  memoirs  as  a  poet,  which  gives 
their  pages  the  graceful  charm  that  perpetuates  them. 
These  passages  from  his  youthful  career  were  not  pub- 
lished until  after  his  death. 

^7) 


TWENTY-FIVE  YEARS  OF  MY  LIFE 


AS  To  the  interest  which  these  memoirs  will  have  in  a 
literary  or  political  sense,  I  do  not  exaggerate  it  one 
way  or  the  other ;  but  the  following  are  the  reasons 
which  make  me  think  I  shall  at  least  be  forgiven  for  their 
publication. 

I  was  born  in  the  very  midst  of  the  French  Revolution  —  a 
time  of  passion,  folly,  and  fury  of  parties  on  all  sides.  My  first 
recollections  are  of  a  father  in  prison  ;  of  a  mother  a  captive 
on  parole  in  her  own  house,  under  a  revolutionary  guard; 
of  the  songs  of  the  (<  Marseillaise  *  and  the  "Qaira,"  sung 
in  the  streets,  and  echoing,  as  it  were,  the  anguish  in  the 
bosom  of  the  families  around  us  ;  of  the  dull  thuds  which 
followed  the  stroke  of  the  guillotine  in  our  public  squares ; 
of  the  march  of  half-scared  troops  all  day  long  on  the  high- 
way. I  used  to  sing  myself  the  songs  I  heard  others  sing 
—  poor,  little,  unintelligent  echo  that  I  was  of  a  world  into 
which  I  had  just  entered  amfd  smiles  and  tears  !  My  poor 
mother  used  to  look  at  me  sadly  enough.  One  day  a 
change  came  :  the  soldiers  overpowered  the  demagogues ; 
the  guillotine  was  swept  away,  and  my  own  family  could 
breathe  freely  again.  We  went  to  seek  a  humble  shelter 
among  our  faithful  peasants  in  the  country.  L,ittle  by  little 
we  obtained  the  kind  of  security  granted  to  proscribed  per- 
sons. Year  after  year  my  sisters  came  to  brighten  the 
home,  which  our  devoted  servants  always  maintained  on  the 
most  comfortable  footing ;  and  here  I  grew  and  throve  in 
the  midst  of  our  people. 

My  mother  taught  me  the  existence  of  that  mysterious 
and  Divine  Being  who  is  Justice,  Power,  and  what  we  call 
Providence.  This  was  to  me  a  great  joy  :  my  little  mind 
had  been  always  working  ;  now  I  had  found  a  key  to  the 
problem  of  life  —  the  only  real  and  true  foundation  —  in  a 
word,  I  believed,    and    prayed.      My    heart    opened  to  these 

(249) 


250  LAMARTINE 

pious  influences  ;  the  spirit  of  a  man  began  to  develop  it- 
self in  me ;  in  a  word,  the  child  was  being  matured. 
Then  came  my  school  and  college  life,  when  rude  hands 
fashioned  me,  in  sad  contrast  to  the  gentle,  loving  training 
of  my  home.  I  passed  through  this  ordeal,  and  came  out 
of  it  transformed,  but  not  improved.  I  was  an  excitable 
lad,  like  a  will-' o-the- wisp,  with  no  very  fixed  ideas,  and  willing 
enough  to  float  down  the  flowery  stream  of  life.  The  Rev- 
olution broke  out  again,  and  I  looked  upon  it  as  solving 
for  me  the  mystery  of  the  future.  I  went  into  the  army : 
I  loved  the  Bourbons,  and  thought  I  would  die  to  serve 
them.  But  when  peace  came  I  was  soon  sick  of  a  military 
life.  Napoleon  returned,  and  there  was  an  end  of  my 
dreams  of  glory.  I  accompanied  the  Bourbon  princes  to 
the  frontiers  of  France,  but  I  did  not  go  beyond  —  I  felt 
that  I  belonged  to  my  country  above  all  else.  Then  came 
the  bloody  field  of  Waterloo :  the  20th  of  March  was 
avenged,  and  the  Bourbons  were  reinstated.  I  again  took 
my  place  in  their  guard,  both  from  a  feeling  of  honor  and 
of  fidelity.  But  I  did  not  remain  there  long :  I  could  not 
stand  a  life  of  inactivity  and  of  discipline  without  glory ; 
so  I  again  became  a  vagabond  and  a  wanderer  on  the  face 
of  the  earth.  Traveling  not  only  dispels  our  ennui,  but  in- 
terests and  fills  the  heart.  I  led  a  life  of  pleasure  and  of 
love  for  several  years ;  then  followed  sadness,  dissatisfac- 
tion, and  remorse.  I  resolved  at  last  to  do  something,  and 
went  into  diplomacy,  for  which  I  felt  I  was  well  qualified. 
Not  long  after  I  married  a  good  and  accomplished  woman 
who  brought  me  back  to  all  virtuous  and  domestic  habits, 
and  I  became  once  more  satisfied,  calm,  and  happy. 

The  Revolution  of  1830,  which  drove  the  elder  branch  of 
the  Bourbons  into  exile,  induced  me  to  share  their  fate,  in 
spite  of  the  wishes  of  the  Orleans  princes,  whom  I  was 
very  willing  to  respect,  but  whom  I  could  not  serve.  I 
started  for  the  East,  and  for  two  years  diverted  my  mind 
by  traveling  in  Turkey,  the  Archipelago,  the  Holy  Land, 
Syria,  and  the  Lebanon.  I  came  home.  My  reputation  had 
grown  during  my  absence.  I  found  myself  elected  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Senate.  I  resolved  to  abstain  from  party  votes 
or  passions,  and   to    devote   myself   entirely    to  the  good  of 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  251 

my  conntry  ;  thus  giving  up  any  chance  of  promotion  or 
public  employment,  but  preserving  my  own  principles  and 
self-respect.  I  conquered  at  last  a  certain  position  for  my- 
self, but  with  difficulty.  Certain  literary  successes  at  this 
time  added  slightly  to  my  reputation.  After  ten  years, 
party  strife  and  passions  got  the  upper  hand.  The  very 
men  who  had  brought  about  the  Revolution  of  1830,  and 
the  Government  of  the  Orleanists,  turned  against  their  own 
work.  I  opposed  them  vigorously  ;  but  I  refused  every- 
thing save  the  pleasure  of  defeating  and  overthrowing  them. 
I  could  not  bear  that  my  indignation  should  be  attributed 
to  any  other  feeling  than  one  of  right.  I  repudiated  all 
idea  of  intrigues  and  revolutionary  banquets.  I  struggled 
at  one  and  the  same  time  against  the  coalition  and  the  roy- 
alists of  1830.  I  had  the  happiness  of  being  understood  by 
the  country  and  the  King,  who  sent  for  me  and  begged  me 
to  take  office.  I  refused,  though  with  respectful  firmness. 
I  chose  to  have  no  r61e  but  that  of  a  volunteer  :  all  for  my 
country,  nothing  for  myself.  The  crisis  became  imminent : 
there  were  risings  in  various  places  ;  the  Ministers  lost  their 
heads ;  the  coalition  disbanded  itself ;  the  King  lost  his 
presence  of  mind  ;  the  people  were  in  a  ferment.  At  last 
the  Revolution,  with  which  I  had  nothing  on  earth  to  do, 
was  declared.  I  was  only  mixed  up  in  it  during  the  last 
few  hours,  after  the  flight  of  the  King.  I  appeared  like 
Fate,  to  repress,  and,  if  possible,  keep  it  within  bounds. 
It  has  been  said  and  written  that  such  and  such  a  faction 
or  secret  society  brought  it  about.  This  is  not  true.  I  can 
appeal  to  the  ocular  testimony  of  thousands  —  not  in  defense 
of  myself,  but  to  bear  witness  to  the  fact  that,  finding  the 
Revolution  inevitable,  it  was  I  who  organized  it ;  and  unless 
we  had  been  content  with  utter  anarchy,  what  else  was 
there  to  be  done  ?  I  asked  it  of  the  whole  of  France.  It 
was  a  bold  step  ;  but  it  was  a  necessary  one.  The  alterna- 
tive was  only  a  continued  and  aggravated  anarchy.  Felix 
culpa  !  The  Republic  once  proclaimed,  I  found  the  means 
of  moderating  its  action.  France  behaved  admirably.  For 
four  months  we  governed  in  the  midst  of  the  storm,  with- 
out what  one  may  call  a  government  at  all.  Afterward 
everything  was  changed.     I  refused  what  was  offered  to  me, 


252  LAMARTINE 

|  and  returned  into  obscurity.  I  had  not  the  vanity  to  pre- 
'  tend  to  that  to  which  neither  my  birth  nor  my  talents  en- 
titled me.  I  bore  without  complaint  fifteen  years  of  unjust 
reproaches  and  of  continued  misfortunes,  under  which  I  am 
now  sinking.  I  worked  on  courageously,  however  :  I  am 
working  still.  These  events  may  interest  my  readers  —  I 
I  write  them  in  good  faith.     May  God  be  my  helper  ! 

I  was  just  beginning  to  see  and  understand  something 
of  outside  things  when  my  father  and  mother  carried  us 
off — a  whole  tribe  of  children,  in  a  long  file  of  bullock 
wagons  —  to  establish  us  and  all  our  worldly  goods  at 
Milly.  Our  dear  mother  was  in  the  first  carriage  with  two 
of  my  sisters  on  her  knees,  and  another  at  her  breast ;  a 
quantity  of  loose  packages  filled  up  the  lumbering  vehicle. 
My  father  went  on  foot  as  a  sportsman,  carrying  his  gun, 
cheering  my  mother,  and  helping  the  carriage  when  it  got 
into  any  bad  ruts.  Two  dogs  in  a  leash  followed  him,  and 
then  two  more  wagons  full  of  maids  and  nurses  and  house- 
hold goods  of  every  description,  going  at  a  foot's  pace. 
Then  came  a  carriage  containing  Mile,  de  Monceau  and  her 
maid.  All  this  formed  a  regular  procession  of  old-fashioned 
equipages  rolling  and  tumbling  about  in  the  mud,  for  the 
public  roads  in  those  days  were  execrable.  The  cries  of 
the  drivers,  the  lowing  of  the  bullocks,  the  clamor  and 
fright  of  the  women  servants,  and  the  hearty  laughter  of 
the  children  at  each  fresh  misfortune,  made  up  a  pictur- 
esque  scene,  which  was  partly  amusing  and  partly  touch- 
ing. We  did  not  arrive  at  Milly  for  five  or  six  hours, 
although  it  was  hardly  more  than  twelve  miles. 

Milly  was  then  a  poor  little  village  built  on  the  ridge  of 
a  hill  planted  with  vines,  at  some  distance  from  St.  Sorlin, 
which  was  the  rural  capital  of  the  country. 

Ever  since  the  spring,  my  father  had  come  to  Milly  from 
time  to  time  to  prepare  the  house  for  his  family.  The 
revolutionists  had,  to  a  certain  degree,  spared  the  old  place, 
and  contented  themselves  with  turning  the  drawing-room 
into  a  dancing  saloon  on  Sundays  for  the  benefit  of  the 
neighboring  peasantry.  The  sabots  of  the  dancers  had 
broken  the  old  encaustic  tiles  into  a  thousand  bits ;  not 
from  pure   mischief,  but   simply  from  a  sort  of    pleasure  at 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  253 

profaning  a  nobleman's  house.  We  stumbled  among  the 
broken  fragments  of  pavement  until  a  workman  had  clums- 
ily repaired  it  with  large  square  common  bricks.  There 
was  not  much  more  damage  done.  The  vines  continued  to 
bear  and  the  fruit  trees  to  blossom,  so  that  the  traces  of 
the  Revolution  in  Milly  might  be  said  to  be  restricted  to 
the  ball-room.  Every  one  —  father,  mother,  aunt,  children, 
and  servants  —  had  soon  found  his  or  her  place  in  the 
house.  Our  only  furniture  were  a  few  beds,  tables,  and 
chairs.  The  kitchen,  soon  filled  by  the  peasant  women, 
once  more  sent  up  the  cheerful  smoke  from  its  wide,  ingle- 
nooked  chimney.  The  nurse  and  children  walked  and 
played  in  the  corridor.  My  father  spent  his  days  in  hunt- 
ing or  shooting  on  the  mountains.  My  mother  was  occu- 
pied in  writing,  in  the  care  and  superintendence  of  the 
house,  or  in  visiting  the  sick  and  suffering,  with  whom 
she  at  once  made  friends,  and  was  beloved  as  readily  as 
she  herself  loved  all  around  her. 

Do  you  wish  for  a  description  of  these  my  first  happy  \ 
days  at  Milly?  The  account  of  one  day  will  serve  for  ally 
the  rest. 

No  sooner  had  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  lit  up  my 
mother's  room,  than  my  father,  who  was  a  very  early 
riser,  went  out  walking.  A  maid  used  to  fetch  me  and 
put  me  into  my  father's  place,  by  the  side  of  my  darling, 
gentle  mother,  who  used  to  kiss  and  pet  me,  and  then 
teach  me  to  lisp  my  little  prayers.  I  did  not  know  very 
well  the  meaning  of  the  words,  or  understand  what  that  In- 
visible and  Omnipotent  Power  was,  called  God  ;  but  I  knew  \ 
I  was  doing  like  mamma,  and  that  was  more  than  enough  J 
for  me.  Most  good  things  are  done  from  imitation.  To  try  ' 
and  be  like  what  one  loves,  that  is  the  first  instinct  of  man. 
At  any  rate,  it  was  mine.  Reasoning  one  may  dispute,  but 
not  that  which  has  become  a  habit.  My  father  was  not 
a  very  religious,  but  he  was  an  honest  and  an  honorable 
man.  The  love  and  respect  of  his  wife,  whom  he  adored, 
made  him  pious  almost  in  spite  of  himself. 

After  prayers  we  went  to  breakfast,  I  on  my  nurse's  knee, 
off  the  vinedresser's  soup,  which  I  used  to  think  the  best  in 
the  world.     Then  I   trotted  off   into   the  vineyards   to   play 


254  LAMARTINE 

with  my  companions  (the  children  of  our  peasants),  or 
else,  like  them,  to  keep  the  goats  and  sheep  in  the  moun- 
tain forests.  We  used  to  return  when  the  bell  of  the  old 
steeple  rung  the  midday  Angelus.  Then  a  fuming  hot 
soup  with  bacon  and  vegetables  awaited  us  round  the 
homely  wooden  table ;  a  repast  which  I  infinitely  preferred 
to  the  pure  white  tablecloth  and  more  delicate  dishes 
served  to  my  parents.  I  remember  even  now  with  appetite 
the  little  two -pronged,  two -penny  forks  which  doubled  into 
our  pocket  clasped-knives,  and  with  which  we  used  to  pick 
out  and  eat  the  boulli  of  our  soup,  in  little  bright  red  or 
green  varnished  earthenware  bowls  !  Soup  has  ever  since 
appeared  a  luxury  to  me.  A  cabbage  or  celery  leaf,  with 
a  radish,  just  stirred  in  what  is  called  (<  tea-kettle  broth, * 
with  a  bit  of  black  bread,  this  is  the  true  food  of  the 
country  peasant.  My  simple  life  made  me  relish  the 
homely  fare  of  the  cottager  as  much  as  a  child  who  had 
known  nothing  else.  When  I  grew  older,  and  was  no 
longer  allowed  to  run  wild,  and  the  age  of  lessons  and 
schools  came,  I  was  obliged  to  give  up  this  simple  food  of 
goat's  cheese,  cabbage,  onions,  and  the  like,  and  made  to 
eat  meat,  which  disagreed  with  me  so  much  that  I  had  a 
regular  illness  in  consequence ;  and,  ever  since,  I  have 
never  lost  the  early  tastes  contracted  at  that  time.  Even 
when  we  dined  up-stairs,  my  mother  never  could  persuade 
us  to  eat  anything  but  vegetables. 

After  dinner,  my  father  used  to  go  back  to  his  shooting 
on  the  mountains,  sometimes  alone,  at  other  times  in  com- 
pany with  one  of  his  head  vinedressers,  of  whom  he  had 
made  both  a  guide  and  friend.  This  man,  who  was  in 
every  way  superior  to  his  class,  was  called  Claude  Chanut, 
and  became  quite  a  favorite  with  us  all. 

Sometimes  it  happened  that  we  passed  the  whole  winter 
at  Milly,  as  in  a  kind  of  domestic  convent,  completely 
snowed  up,  but  visited  from  time  to  time  by  certain  old 
friends  of  my  father's,  who  were  living  in  hiding,  as  it 
were,  in  the  neighboring  villages.  First,  there  was  the 
doctor  of  the  canton,  who  lived  with  his  wife  at  St. 
Sorlin,  with  a  son,  who  became  my  great  friend,  and  a 
daughter,  whom    I    should    have    fallen   in  love  with,  if   I 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  25s 

had  been  of  the  right  age.  Then  there  was  the  Chevalier 
de  La  Cense,  a  retired  officer  in  the  Guards,  living  with 
his  sister,  Mademoiselle  de  Moleron,  in  the  same  village,  a 
cheery,  jovial,  good-natured  man,  whose  arrival  brightened 
the  whole  house.  Then  there  was  M.  de  Vaudran,  of  the 
Bruys  family  (one  of  twenty  children,  all  distinguished  in 
their  different  careers),  living  at  Bussieres,  in  the  parish 
of  Milly.  M.  de  Vaudran,  who  was  an  old  friend  of  my 
father's,  had  been  secretary  to  M.  de  Villedeuil  before  the 
Revolution,  and  initiated  into  all  the  political  secrets  of  the 
highest  society  in  Paris.  He  was  a  Royalist  of  the  good 
old  school — moderate,  impartial,  and  just  toward  every 
one,  even  toward  the  men  who  had  mingled  in  the  Revo- 
lution, without  having  imbrued  their  hands  in  crime  and 
blood.  He  took  pity  on  my  somewhat  neglected  education, 
and  gave  me  my  first  writing-lessons  on  a  little  table  in 
the  dining-room,  for  which  I  have  remained  eternally 
grateful  to  him.  His  three  sisters  —  simple,  gentle,  loving, 
agreeable  women,  and  great  friends  of  my  mother's  —  often 
accompanied  him  to  Milly.  Although  obliged,  from 
political  circumstances,  to  live  continually  in  the  country, 
and  only  associate  with  people  of  a  humbler  class,  the 
natural  distinction  of  their  manners,  and  the  companion- 
ship of  their  brother,  who  always  spent  part  of  the  year 
with  them,  gave  them  a  high-bred  tone  which  could  not  be 
mistaken;  and  their  entire  absence  of  affectation  made  their 
reception  of  friends  in  their  own  home  most  pleasant ; 
while  their  natural  grace  and  dignity  gave  a  special  charm 
to  their  conversation. 

The  Cure  de  Bussieres  their  near  neighbor,  young,  hand- 
some, mundane,  amiable,  and  of  elegant  and  refined  habits, 
was  full  of  respect  and  deference  for  these  ladies,  and  he 
was  also  a  favorite  shooting  companion  of  my  father's. 

At  a  quarter  of  a  league  from  our  house,  buried  in  the 
wooded  gorges  of  the  mountains  of  St.  Point,  was  a  site 
which  has  enshrined  itself  in  my  memory  and  imagination  v' 
forever.  I  mean  the  village  and  chdteau  of  Pierreclos  — 
the  habitation  of  the  old  Count  de  Pierreclos,  whom  I  have 
before  mentioned.  Walter  Scott  has  nothing  more  romantic  \ 
or  original    in   his    descriptions   of    the    nature,  habits,  and    I 


256  LAMART1NE 

dwelling-places  of  the  Scotch  lairds.  Now  for  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  chdteau  itself,  its  inmates,  and  the  life  they  led 
there. 

We  used  to  go  and  dine  there   every   Sunday   after   high 
mass ;  that  is,  at    a    quarter    before    twelve.     After    having 
clambered  on  foot    to    the   summit    of   the    Csaz    mountain, 
which  threw  a  long  gray  shadow  over  the  Milly  valley  be- 
~.       /  '  hind  my  father's  garden,  a  steep  and  rapid  descent   to   the 

A  c-c*-  tX*  right  brought  us  into  the  Pierreclos  valley.     A  rough  path, 

f^-  fall  °f  rolling  stones,  but   shaded    by   old   walnut-trees,  led 

us  by  several  barren   hamlets   to    the    head    of    the   valley. 
'  There  the  aspect  of  the  scenery  chaijgjgs;  the  hills,  covered 

with  vineyards,  slope  down  toward  the  rich  meadows,  irri- 
gated by  bright  and  rushing  streams,  and  shaded  by  pop- 
lars cutting  the  sky-line,  like  the  cypresses  of  the  South. 
Very  soon  the  valley  widens,  and  the  eye  is  lost  in  a  dis- 
tant vapory  forest  of  pines  and  beech.  The  background  is 
formed  of  dark  mountains,  covered  here  and  there  with 
snow,  which  lies  in  deep  patches  in  the  hollows.  After 
having  walked  on  a  little  way  on  the  high-road,  we  used 
to  perceive  a  mass  of  smoke  and  vapor  coming  out  of  the 
mouths  of  the  village  furnaces,  which  blackened  even  the 
walls  of  the  old  steeple  of  Pierreclos.  But  it  was  church 
time,  and  we  hurried  into  the  chapel,  where  the  priest 
was  saying  mass.  The  old  lord  and  his  family  occupied  a 
bench  to  the  right  of  the  altar.  The  family  consisted  of 
the  master  of  the  chdteau,  a  gouty  old  man,  but  wiih  a 
proud  and  determined  countenance,  who  looked  down  with 
a  sort  of  insolence  on  his  old  vassals ;  his  brother,  M.  de 
Berze,  who  bore  the  name  of  the  old  Gothic  chdteau  of 
which  we  spoke  just  now,  between  Milly  and  Cluny;  his 
five  daughters,  all  very  pleasing-looking,  both  in  face  and 
figure ;  and  a  young  son,  of  about  the  same  age  as  myself, 
with  whom  hereafter  I  was  to  be  bound  in  the  ties  of  a 
warm  friendship.  As  soon  as  we  appeared  they  made  room 
for  us  in  the  church,  and  we  were  soon  kneeling  in  our 
proper  seats.  The  mass  being  over,  the  peasants  separated. 
The  old  lord  mounted  his  horse  (with  the  help  of  his  serv- 
ants), and  rode  up  to  the  castle  by  a  steep  paved  road. 
We  followed  on  foot  with  the  rest  of  the  family,  and  wind-  • 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  257 

ing  through  the  vineyards,  soon  arrived  at  the  iron  gates  of 
the  chateau.  Nothing  could  be  more  imposing  than  its  ap- 
pearance as  you  entered.  A  vast  courtyard,  which  led  you 
through  a  high  subterranean  passage,  or  covered  way,  to 
the  keep,  from  which  you  suddenly  emerged  into  an  open 
sunny  space  brilliant  with  flowers,  growing  up  to  the  very 
foot  of  the  steeple  of  the  old  chapel,  which  was  built  on  a 
high  terrace  to  the  extreme  left  of  the  castle.  Then  the 
ground  suddenly  fell,  like  a  drop-scene  in  the  opera,  and 
revealed  to  you  a  mass  of  towers  and  pinnacles  and  quaint 
Gothic  windows  and  ornaments,  the  whole  lit  up  and 
illuminated,  as  it  were,  by  the  setting  sun. 

On  first  entering  the  large  courtyard,  I  was  struck  at 
the  sight  of  a  new  building  not  yet  finished,  on  the  win- 
dows of  which  the  workmen,  in  fact,  were  still  at  work. 
It  was  evidently  intended  to  replace  the  old  Gothic  castle, 
which,  being  mainly  composed  of  keeps  and  square  towers, 
circular  staircases,  irregular  turrets,  and  pointed  roofs,  was 
more  picturesque  than  comfortable,  and  rather  gave  one  the 
idea  of  an  aerial  village.  This  old  fortress,  in  reality,  had 
been  built  on  the  edge  of  a  promontory,  and  followed  the 
sinuosities  of  the  rock  both  above  and  below,  from  the 
summit  to  the  valley.  The  upper  part  formed  an  oval 
terrace,  upon  which  all  the  doors  opened,  whether  of  the 
kitchens  or  drawing-rooms. 

The  apartments  with  the  exception  of  a  great  stove  in  an 
angle  of  the  dining-room,  and  a  magnificent  fire-place  of 
black  marble  in  the  drawing-room,  large  enough  to  burn 
whole  trees  at  a  time,  had  the  appearance  of  rooms  recently 
restored  after  a  fire  the  day  before.  The  mortar  scarcely 
filled  up  the  spaces  between  the  stones  ;  and  the  walls,  \ 
guiltless  of  whitewash,  seemed  never  to  have  been  smoothed  J 
by  the  mason's  trowel.  The  flames  had  licked  the  paint 
off  the  ceilings,  which  bore  the  traces  of  an  incendiary  fire, 
seemingly  scarcely  put  out. 

(<  Look  !  *  exclaimed  the  old  Count,  showing  me  the  marks 
of  the  above-mentioned  destruction  ;  (<  look  at  the  traces  of 
the  passage  of  those  brigands  !  Kere  was  the  torch  of  one, 
there  the  hatchet  of  another,  a  pickaxe  was  the  tool  of  the 
third.  Ah  !  the  rascals  !  I  know  them  well ;  and  never  in 
17 


258  LAMARTINE 

my  lifetime  will  I  suffer  the  remembrance  of  these  horrors 
to  be  effaced.  * 

In  truth  in  1790,  in  the  famous  and  inexplicable  day 
called  du  Brigandage,  this  grand  old  castle  had  been  com- 
pletely ravaged,  and  nearly  burnt  to  the  ground,  by  the 
peasants  from  the  mountains,  who  had  determined  to  avenge 
the  supposed  wrongs  of  the  villagers,  and  took  advantage 
of  the  unpopularity  of  the  owner,  who  was  hated  by  the 
people,  to  carry  out  their  nefarious  designs.  The  pillage 
and  devastation  were  indeed  complete. 

His  wife  and  daughters  were  saved  by  the  fidelity  of  two 
or  three  of  their  tenant  farmers,  and  concealed  in  the  neigh- 
boring forest.  The  Count  and  his  son  escaped  by  a  mir- 
acle, and  swore  to  be  avenged.  His  eldest  son  emigrated 
the  next  day.  As  to  the  .old  Count  himself,  he  returned 
after  a  time  to  his  ruined  home,  and  went  on  living  there 
till  the  day  when  they  came  to  carry  off  the  cannons  of  his 
terrace  to  Macon,  at  the  same  time  that  his  whole  family  were 
thrown  into  prison  by  the  agents  of  the  Revolutionary  gov- 
ernment. My  father,  who  in  1790  was  on  leave  at  Monceau, 
armed  and  mounted  the  young  men  of  M&con,  and  pursued 
the  incendiaries  to  the  Chateau  of  Cormatin,  killing  several 
in  an  engagement  in  the  neighborhood  of  Cluny,  and  hang- 

Iing  others  on  the  trees  by  the  roadside,  —  a  service  never 
forgotten  in  the  grateful  memory  of  the  old  Count.  The 
insurrection  was  at  an  end,  and  order  was  everywhere  re- 
stored, until  the  day  when  the  Government,  in  its  turn, 
had  given  the  signal  for  persecution,  and  imprisoned,  as  we 
have  said,  the  whole  family  as  Royalists. 

The  head  of  the  family  had  been  formerly  captain  of 
cavalry  during  the  Seven  Years'  War.  He  had  been  taken 
prisoner  by  the  Prussians,  and  used  to  tell  us  how  the 
Queen  of  Prussia,  delighted  with  his  good  looks  and  clever- 
ness, used  to  knock  every  morning  at  his  door  in  the  cor- 
ridor, calling  out,  <c  Count  Pierreclos  !  get  up  and  follow 
the  King's  hunting  party  !  Your  horses  are  waiting. B 
'  a  At  these  words,*  he  added,  <(I  gladly  rose,  and  started 
for  Sans  Souci,  where  we  used  to  eat  delicious  sour-krout.w 
The  Queen  of  Prussia  was  always  brought  into  the  con- 
versation. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  259 

On  returning  from  Potsdam,  he  sent  in  his  resignation, 
and  married  a  young  girl  of  good  family  from  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Lyons.  She  bore  him  five  or  six  children,  and 
they  lived  constantly  in  the  Chateau  of  Pierreclos,  the 
old  Count  being  the  object  of  the  timid  fear  of  the  peas- 
antry, and  the  ridicule  of  the  middle  classes.  He  was  not 
a  bad  man  at  all  but  absurdly  vain  and  boastful,  with  a 
good  heart  at  bottom,  though  often  violent  and  rough  in 
his  manners.  His  wife  had  died  during  their  imprisonment. 
The  eldest  of  his  sons  had  emigrated  ;  the  youngest  who 
was  called  the  Chevalier  de  Pierreclos,  was  a  boy  of  my  own 
age,  brave,  clever,  and  intelligent,  left  to  nature  and  with 
scarcely  any  education  ;  but  giving  promise  of  what  he 
afterward  became — a  brilliant  adventurer,  like  the  Cheva- 
lier de  Grammont,  a  hero  of  the  civil  wars,  of  romantic  love 
affairs,  of  duels,  horses,  and  all  that  is  comprehended  in  the 
old  term  of  a  (<  free  lance. w  We  were  intimate  from  chil- 
dren, and  shared  in  all  bo}dsh  sports. 

His  sisters,  older  than  himself,  were  handsome,  piquante, 
and  original.  As  they  had  no  mother,  they  had  conse-  \ 
quently  little  or  no  education,  properly  so  called  ;  they,  in  j 
fact,  brought  up  one  another.  There  was  certainly  in  the 
ckdteau  an  old  aunt,  the  only  sister  of  the  Count,  a  clever 
woman,  and  as  strange  as  himself ;  but  who  could  only 
have  taught  cards  to  her  pretty  nieces,  that  being  the  one 
occupation  of  Madame  de  Moirode  from  morning  till  night. 
She  used  to  come  into  the  drawing-room  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  and  sit  on  a  curtained  seat,  like  Madame 
du  Defiant!  Then  lowering  the  curtains  round  her  on  three 
sides,  to  keep  out  the  draught,  she  would  offer  cards  to  all 
comers :  brothers,  sisters,  nephews,  nieces,  friends  —  no  matter 
who  I  playing  without  a  moment's  intermission  from  one  meal 
to  another  ;  resting  for  a  few  minutes,  perhaps,  in  the  middle 
of  the  day,  and  beginning  again  with  any  new-comers  till 
supper-time. 

The  Chevalier  de  Berze,  an  old  cavalry  officer  like  his 
brother,  the  Count  de  Pierreclos,  ran  through  his  whole 
fortune  very  early  in  life,  and  now  had  accepted  the  posts 
of  agent  and  gardener  to  the  family.  In  the  drawing-room 
his  only  functions  seemed  to  be  to  provide  fresh  cards,  and 


26o  LAMARTINE 

to  bring  in  fresh,  logs  for  the  fire.  He  was  a  thoroughly 
good-natured,  "serviceable8  fellow,  ready  to  do  a  kind  turn 
to  everybody,  and  universally  beloved.  I  saw  him  live, 
[grow  old,  and  die,  like  a  living  piece  of  furniture,  having 
no  idea  in  life  but  that  of  saying  <(  Yes  *  to  everything 
proposed  by  his  brother;  of  bringing  the  finest  melons 
from  the  garden  to  the  dining-room,  the  most  beautiful 
flowers  to  his  nieces,  and  fresh  faggots  for  the  inexhaustible 
fire-places  in  both  apartments. 

But  when  the  time  of  the  vintage  drew  near,  everything 
assumed  an  aspect  of  work  and  life  and  gayety,  which 
metamorphosed  the  whole  country.  The  peasants  loaded 
their  carts  with  water  thoroughly  to  cleanse  the  deep  wine- 
presses which  were  to  hold  the  grapes.  The  bullocks, 
coupled  together  and  harnessed  at  dawn,  lifted  their  intel- 
ligent heads  and  velvety  eyes  under  the  heavy  3roke ;  or 
else  ruminated,  by  the  side  of  the  pole,  the  armfuls  of  hay 
which  the  children  gave  them.  The  women,  lifting  us  up 
in  their  arms,  would  help  us  to  scramble  up  by  the  axle  of 
the  wheels  into  the  vat.  This  was  a  large,  oval  kind  of 
bath,  in  which  the  vine-dresser  goes  to  the  vineyard,  and 
which  he  there  fills  with  great  bunches  of  cut  grapes  to 
bring  them  back  to  the  wine-press.  Then  we  were  lifted 
out  by  the  workmen,  and  our  places  filled  by  the  contents 
of  their  baskets.  A  quantity  of  sticky  flies  and  wasps, 
drunk  with  the  juice  of  the  grape  which  had  already  begun 
to  ferment,  feil  with  the  fruit  into  the  vat,  but  either 
instinct  or  satiety  prevented  their  stinging  us. 

Thus  we  went  joyfully  from  one  vine  to  the  other,  help- 
ing to  cut  the  rich  bunches  and  fill  the  baskets  or  bins  of 
one  set  of  reapers  after  the  other.  The  cleverest  and  handi- 
est girls  from  the  neighboring  villages  formed  themselves 
into  bands,  slept  in  the  barn  at  Milly,  and  were  hired  as 
cutters  by  the  owners  of  the  vineyards.  They  used  to  walk 
singing,  their  pails  on  their  heads,  or  their  baskets  on  their 
arms,  behind  the  one  who  served  as  guide  in  the  narrow 
paths  between  the  vines ;  and  then  placing  themselves  by 
twenties  or  thirties,  each  at  the  foot  of  a  vine  stock,  would 
quickly  clear  the  whole  stem  with  careful,  skillful  hands, 
of    its    rich    white   or   blue    burden,  squash    them   in    their 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  261 

fingers,  and  throw  them  into  the  bins,  which  the  boys 
would  then  carry  off  to  the  carts.  The  very  vineyards 
seemed  to  sing  as  their  rich  produce  fell  under  the  scissors ; 
the  earth,  as  it  were,  rejoiced  at  her  spoil.  We,  children, 
used  to  follow  the  carts  dripping  with  their  juicy  burden  ; 
our  little  pinafores  all  stained  with  the  blood  of  the  grape, 
and  meeting  with  joyous  cries  each  fresh  band  of  workers. 
The  joy  ran  like  the  wine  from  hill  to  hill.  Then  we 
helped  to  empty  the  grapes  from  the  vat  to  the  wine-press  ; 
or  gathered  bunches  of  fresh  grapes  to  refresh  the  tired  bul- 
locks, whose  carts  creaked  under  their  heavy  load.  Then 
we  would  count  the  number  of  bins,  and  run  to  tell  our 
father,  who  would  calculate  the  numbers  of  tuns  of  wine 
which  would  be  the  final  result,  and  which,  in  reality, 
formed  our  whole  income  for  the  year.  A  few  days  after, 
the  same  work  was  begun  again,  until  the  leaves  of  the 
vine,  all  yellow  and  seared,  had  no  more  fruit  to  conceal ; 
until,  in  fact,  the  vintage  being  over  and  the  barrels  filled 
to  the  brim  with  wine,  the  vines  were  left  desolate,  the 
goats  picked  off  the  few  remaining  leaves,  and  the  once 
busy  paths  were  still  as  death. 

Then  began  the  spinning  of  the  flax  and  hemp  in  the 
evenings  at  home ;  or  else  the  cracking  of  the  walnuts, 
which  was  the  last  gay  work  of  the  season  for  the  villagers. 
The  mistress  of  the  house,  by  the  light  of  a  rustic  lamp 
called  a  creuse-yeux,  gathered  round  the  large  kitchen  table, 
children,  servants,  visitors,  and  neighbors.  The  men  went 
to  the  cellar  and  brought  out  huge  sacks  of  nuts,  of  which 
the  husk,  already  half  rotten,  was  easily  detached  from  the 
shell,  and  threw  them  on  the  floor.  Every  one,  armed  with 
a  hammer,  set  to  work  on  a  heap  of  this  rich  fruit  before 
him,  to  crack  the  nuts  carefully,  and  take  out  the  ker- 
nel (if  possible  entire)  and  put  them  in  little  heaps,  either 
for  sale  or  for  the  oil  mill.  Gay  laughter  and  innocent 
conversation  echoed  from  one  end  of  the  room  to  the 
other,  and  made  the  work  seem  like  play.  When  all 
was  done,  dancing  began,  and  generally  continued  till  mid- 
night. 

It  was  the  same  with  the  weaving  of  the  hemp  and  flax, 
which  used  to  occupy  the  winter  evenings  in  the  great  barn 


262  LAMARTINE 

until  the  tow  merchant  came  round  and  bargained  for  the 
long  hanks  of  yarn  and  vegetable  silk,  the  produce  of  which 
was  the  gain  of  the  wives  and  daughters  and  women- 
servants  of  the  house,  and  often  served  to  keep  them 
in  clothes  altogether.  We  used  to  take  our  share  in  all 
these  works  with  our  servants  and  peasants,  as  was  the  cus- 
tom in  those  primitive  days.  The  presence  of  our  gentle 
mother  was  a  check  on  any  light  or  improper  word  or 
action  ;  for  she  had  won  the  respect  and  love  of  the  whole 
neighborhood. 

Our  conversations  at   these   gatherings   was   generally   on 
the   subject  of  the  good  or   bad    crops ;    the   price    of    wine 
or  wheat ;  the  marriage  of  this  or    that  village  lad  or  girl ; 
the  wages  of  the  women-servants,  which  generally  consisted 
of    ten    crowns  (thirty    francs)    a    year,    six    yards    of   un- 
bleached linen  for  shifts,   two    pairs  of  sabots,    a    few    yards 
of  stuff  for  petticoats,  and  five  francs  as  a  present  on  New 
Year's  Day.     These   were    the  current  wages  of  servants  in 
those  days.     They  are   now   at    least    ten    times    as    much  ; 
'  but  I  doubt  if  the  people  themselves  are  one  whit  richer  or 
/happier.     Money    only   represents,  under    one    denomination 
\  or  other,  a  certain  amount  of  wants.     All   is  equal,  except 
in  the  mind  of  man. 

Very  often,  on  coming  out  of  some  sanguinary  revolution- 
ary crisis,  very   terrible    at   the  time,  perhaps,  but  quickly 
forgotten,  the  talk  among  the  elder  men  became  political  — 
y  that  is  to  say,  military.     Itinerant    hawkers    used    to    come 

round  to  our  doors,  crying  out,  <(  Great  battle  between  the 
French,  under  command  of  General  Bonaparte,  in  Italy, 
and  the  English  or  Germans  *  (or  else  it  was  (<  Moreau  on 
the  Rhine, *  or  (<  Massena  in  Switzerland,*  or  (<  Macdonald 
in  Suabia,"  or  <(  Hoche  in  the  Palatinate, "  or  <(  Marceau  in 
Germany  *  ).  Then  the  peasant  would  rush  out  of  his  cabin, 
while  the_  hawker  unrolled  to  his  admiring  eyes  highly- 
colored  portraits  of  heroes,  and  he  listened  with  all  his  ears 
to  the  startling  tale  of  battles  won,  and  heroic  escapes,  or 
glorious  death-scenes  ;  and  bought  for  a  penny  the  true(?) 
history  of  all  these  feats  of  arms.  He  would  then  nail 
them  up  on  his  wall,  or  get  his  wife  to  sew  them  on  the 
serge  curtains  of  his  bed,  where  they  remained   for  himself 

It    ■ 


*A 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  263 

and    his    family    as    a    true    history    of    France   and    of    her 
doughty  deeds  to  all  time. 

The  first  political  enthusiasm  with  which  I  was  myself 
fired  was  in  the  village  square  adjoining  our  own  courtyard.  jt 

There  was  .a  young  man  named  JLaflifl,  a  little  better  edu-  sffc.  . 
cated  than  his  neighbors,  who  taught  the  village  children  d  ^ 
the  elements  of  reading  and  writing.  One  day  he  stepped  if 
out  of  the  cabin  which  served  as  a  school,  and  sounding  a 
drum  and  a  clarionet  of  which  he  had  somehow  become  pos- 
sessed, he  quickly  attracted  all  the  boys  and  girls  in  Milly  ; 
to  whom  he  commenced  showing  off  a  quantity  of  pictures 
of  military  heroes,  which  he  had  obtained  from  one  of 
these  hawkers,  who  was  standing  by  his  side.  "Look," 
he  exclaimed,  (<  at  this  picture  of  the  battle  of  the 
Pyramids,  gained  by  General  Bonaparte  !  He  is  this  little 
dark,  thin  man,  whom  you  see  here  mounted  on  a  horse 
as  yellow  as  gold,  which  is  rearing  and  plunging,  with 
his  long  sabre  in  his  hand,  before  that  mass  of  cut 
stone  which  is  called  the  Pyramids,  and  who  is  saying  to 
his  soldiers,  ( From  up  there,  forty  centuries  look  down 
upon  you. '  a 

But  his  eloquence  was  rather  lost  on  his  audience,  who 
did  not  understand  a  word  of  it,  and  preferred  Augereau 
galloping  on  a  white  charger,  and  crossing  the  Rhine  with 
one  bound,  as  if  he  had  been  carried  on  the  wings  of  Vic- 
tory herself  ;  or  Berthier,  tearing  a  swan's  quill  from  his 
floating  plume  to  write  the  staff  orders  with  a  pensive  coun- 
tenance. But  Kleber  with  his  drum-major's  figure  and 
size,  carried  the  day,  and  excited  the  enthusiasm  and  plau- 
dits of  the  whole  hamlet. 

The  hawker  passed  the  morning   selling  these  pictures  of  \ 
national   glory  from    house  to  house,  with    Janin  to  explain    • 
the  subjects  of  each.     His  enthusiasm  spread  the  excitement  ' 
over  the  whole  country,   and   no  one  shared  in  it  more  viv- 
idly than  myself.      It  was  thus  that  I  first  began  to  under- 
stand what  was  meant  by  military  glory.     A  horse,  a  plume, 
a  sabre    were    henceforth  to  me  symbolical  of   great  things. 
The  people  were  fired    with  a    military    ardor,  which  lasted 
a  long  time.     All  through  the  winter  evenings  nothing  was 
talked  of  but  the  hawker,   and    Janin  was   continually  sum- 


a64  LAMARTINE 

moned  to  explain  again  the  text  of  these  wonderful,  and  of 
course  truthful,  pictures. 

Time  went  on,  and  I  was  eleven  years  old.  My  father 
began  to  talk  seriously  of  sending  me  to  school ;  but  it  was 
difficult  to  decide,  because,  since  the  Revolution,  no  public 
school  existed,  if  we  except  certain  private  houses,  more  or 
less  famous  at  Paris  or  at  Lyons,  and  a  College  of  Jesuits 
(who  were  then  called  Fathers  of  the  Faith),  whom  the 
uncle  of  Bonaparte,  Cardinal  Fesch,  protected  on  the  fron- 
tiers of  Italy,  j.n  the  little  town  of  Belley,  in  Bugey.  My 
mother  very  much  wished  that  my  father  would  decide  on 
sending  me  to  this  college,  which  had  a  very  high  reputa- 
tion for  piety  and  learning.  The  greater  portion  of  the 
noble  familes  of  Piemont,  Lombardy,  Turin,  Alessandria, 
and  Milan,  sent  their  children  there.  But  my  mother  was 
opposed  by  all  the  rest  of  the  famity,  who  wished  me  to  go 
to  a  private  house  in  Lyons,  called  the  house  of  La  Caz/le, 
at  la  Croix  Rousse,  and  which  also  was  well  spoken  of. 
My  uncle,  M.  de  Lamartine,  did  not  much  like  the  Jesuites ; 
my  father  was  indifferent,  but  above  all  wished  to  please 
his  brothers  and  sisters,  on  whom  my  future  fortune  de- 
pended. So  that  he  ended  by  saying  "Yes,"  and  my 
mother  rather  sorrowfully  took  me  to  Lyons. 

How  sad  was  my  departure  from  Milly  !  It  was  the  first 
deep  wound  my  heart  had  received,  and  I  felt  it  bitterly. 
How  broken-hearted  I  was  at  saying  good-by  to  the  old 
servants,  who  all  loved  me,  and  I  them,  and  especially  Ja- 
nette,  a  charming  and  beautiful  girl  from  the  mountains, 
whom  I  cried  terribly  at  parting  with,  and  whom  I  left 
equally  bathed  in  tears  !  Janette  came  to  kiss  me  in  my 
little  bed,  and  I  started  for  Lyons  as  if  it  were  (as  in  re- 
ality it  was  to  me)  for  the  other  world.  From  that  hour 
Milly,  its  rocks  and  vineyards,  its  peasants  and  servants, 
and  all  belonging  to  it,  seemed  to  be  graven  in  my  memory 
as  a  warm  and  living  thing  which  formed  a  part  of  my 
very  self.  Alas  !  I  have  had  to  part  with  it  all  since,  down 
to  the  very  stones.  And  when  I  pass  by  the  road,  I  turn 
away  my  head,  that  I  may  not  see  it,  and  do  not  look 
round  till  the  ruined  steeple  and  vine-covered  hills  have 
altogether  disappeared  from  my  sight. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  265 

Hardly  had  I  returned  to  Milly  than  I  felt  what  a  diffi- 
culty a  young  man  of  my  age  and  class  must  be  to  my 
father  and  mother.  What  was  to  be  done  with  a  youth 
too  old  to  remain  idle,  too  distinguished  in  his  studies  not 
to  be  ambitious,  and  too  aristocratic  to  serve  the  new 
Government  ?  The  etnbarras  was  great,  and  helped  to 
strengthen  my  besetting  sins  of  indolence  and  indecision. 
I  should  not  have  minded  going  into  the  law  courts,  where 
many  of  my  companions  were  learning  to  become  future 
counselors  or  judges  ;  but  the  pride  of  my  family  revolted 
against  the  law  as  a  profession.  To  join  the  army,  which 
I  should  have  preferred,  would  have  involved  me  in  the 
service  of  the  present  dynasty,  which  my  parents  might 
recognize,  but  whom  they  would  not  allow  me  to  serve. 
To  be  auditor  of  the  Council  of  State  (which  was  offered 
to  me)  would  result  in  my  being  forced  to  be  a  flatterer 
and  a  tool  of  the  Imperial  regime.  Not  one  of  these  posi- 
tions was  possible  to  one  of  my  birth,  society,  or  ante- 
cedents ;  so  that  there  was  no  alternative  but  to  wait. 

Things  remained  in  this  state  of  indecision  during  the 
autumn  and  winter  which  followed   my  leaving  college. 

But,  at  the  end  of  the  following  year,  my  father  and 
mother  took  us  to  pass  the  winter  at  M&con,  in  a  large 
house  which  they  had  just  bought,  and  in  which  we  in- 
stalled ourselves.  There  I  first  learned  to  understand  what 
was  meant  by  a  serious  passion.  It  was  my  first  real  love. 
Now,  it  appears  to  me  to  have  been  only  the  shadow  of 
it ;  but  the  impression  it  left  on  my  mind  was  deep  and 
lasting.  The  lady  who  awoke  this  feeling  in  my  heart 
died  not  long  ago  ;  therefore  I  can  speak  of  her  without 
fear ;  and,  indeed,  there  was  nothing  in  the  smallest  de- 
gree to  throw  a  shade  on  her  memory  in  the  reciprocal 
affection  of  two  children,   for  such  we  both  were. 

There  was,  then,  at  that  time  in  Macon,  a  young  girl  of 
fifteen  or  sixteen,  of  whom  all  the  town  spoke  in  raptures, 
not  only  on  account  of  her  great  beauty,  but  of  her  sin- 
gular talents  and  modest  grace.  Her  name  was  Mile.  P. 
On  her  mother's  side  she  was  noble  :  on  her  father's  of  the 
middle  class ;  so  that  both  held  her  in  equal  honor,  and 
she    was    received    with    the    most    flattering  distinction    in 


266  LAMARTINE 

both  sets  of  society.  She  had  one  brother,  a  vulgar,  com- 
monplace man,  who  seemed  to  have  united  in  his  own 
person  all  the  defects  of  the  father  ;  while  his  sister  had 
reproduced  all  the  beauty  and  refinement  of  the  mother, 
who,  in  fact,  only  cared  for  her.  The  father  never  ap- 
peared in  the  drawing-room  ;  he  lived  alone  in  his  own 
apartments.  The  son  mixed  with  the  lowest  set  in  the 
town.  Everything  was  as  aristocratic  about  the  wife  as  it 
was  plebeian  about  the  husband.  There  were,  in  fact,  two 
houses  under  the  same  roof ;  and,  in  visiting  the  mother, 
you  were  not  censi  to  know  the  father,  although  he  was  a 
man  of  the  strictest  probity  and  honor.  These  contradic- 
tions rarely  occur  but  in  small  country  towns. 

Mile.  P.  wore  on  her  face  the  signs  of  this  strange 
destiny.  She  had  the  most  delicate  and  beautiful  figure 
which  any  sculptor  ever  idealized  in  a  sylph.  She  danced 
as  the  dragon-flies  skim  over  the  water,  her  feet  scarcely 
touching  the  ground.  At  every  ball  at  which  she  was 
present,  when  the  orchestra  struck  up  a  waltz,  a  circle  was 
sure  to  be  formed  round  her ;  the  women  to  envy,  the  men 
to  rave  about  her ;  but  she  never  seemed  to  be  conscious  of 
it.  This  wonderful  grace  was  part  of  her  very  nature. 
Her  little  oval  head  resting  on  her  small  white  neck  was 
beautifully  formed.  Her  eyebrows  were  finely  marked,  and 
her  long  eyelashes  shading  her  soft  downcast  eyes,  made 
her  look  like  a  statue  of  Purity.  Her  half-shut  eyes,  her 
little  half-open  mouth,  her  delicate  features,  and  her  clear 
and  transparent  complexion,  gave  her  face  an  expression 
which  it  was  impossible  to  forget. 

It  was  thus  that  this  beauty  suddenly  appeared  to  me, 
and  love  first  said  to  my  heart,  <(  Here  I  am.8  I  felt  a 
longing  desire  to  go  out  of  the  ball-room  and  breathe  the 
cold  fresh  air  on  the  borders  of  the  Sa6ne.  I  did  so,  and 
came  back  when  the  orchestra  struck  up  a  second  waltz  — 
then  went  out  —  then  came  back  again,  till  my  friends 
burst  out  laughing  at  my  proceedings,  and  called  out  to 
me,  as  I  was  disappearing  a  third  time,  (<  Stop !  Mile.  P. 
is  going  to  dance. B  She  heard  them,  and  cast  a  grateful 
glance  at  me  in  passing,  as  much  as  to  say,  (( I  saw  you, 
and  I  shall  think  of  you  even  when  waltzing  with  another." 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  267 

Every  time  she   passed    me,  she    gave    me   the   same   kind, 
fixed  look.     That  is  how  our  acquaintance  began. 

When  the  ball  was  over,  I  staggered  out  like  a  drunken 
man.  I  followed  a  whole  troop  of  young  men  who  escorted 
her  to  her  door.  I  saw  that,  after  having  wished  them 
good-by,  she  still  sought  some  one  else.  I  did  not  dare 
advance,  or  go  back.  I  stopped  still.  The  door,  which 
opened  on  some  turning  steps,  as  is  often  the  case  in 
Macon,  was  suddenly  thrown  open,  and  threw  her  back 
down  the  first  step.  Her  mother  uttered  a  cry  of  fear.  I 
rushed  forward  and  caught  her,  as  she  was  falling,  in  my 
arms.  Directly  after  I  wanted  to  retire,  but  her  mother 
called  me  back.  (<  Ah,  sir  !  *  she  said,  ((  you  must  give  us 
leave  to  express  our  thanks ;  come  in ;  and  as  our  intro- 
duction has  been  so  obliging  a  one  on  your  part,  I  must 
insist  on  making  your  acquaintance,  and  my  child  will 
promise  you  the  first  dance  at  the  next  ball.®  I  followed 
her  into  the  drawing-room  where  she  gave  us  tea,  and  I 
asked  permission  to  come  the  following  day  and  inquire 
after  the  young  lady.  Her  mother  granted  it  with  great 
kindness,  her  daughter  thanked  me  With  a  look.  I  went 
out  of  the  house  mad  with  joy.  For  a  long  time  I 
watched  from  the  angle  of  the  quay,  the  lights  from  her 
window,  which  gradually  went  out ;  and  I  felt  that  that 
beautiful  pure  child  was  dreaming  in  her  little  bed.  Did 
she  think  of  me  ?  I  wondered.  I  came  home  very  late  and 
alone  ;  but  I  could  not  sleep ;  my  heart  was  too  overflowing 
with  happiness. 

The  next  day,  when  the  salon  of  Madame  P.  opened  to 
receive  her  friends,  I  was  one  of  the  first  arrivals.  I  found 
Mile.  P.  alone.  She  was  evidently  as  much  afraid  of  miss- 
ing my  visit  as  I  was  of  not  finding  her.  Thus  our  two 
hearts  understood  each  other  without  a  word  ;  the  same 
electric  spark  of  sympathy  ran  through  us  both.  The 
mother  came  in  soon  after,  and  received  me  as  if  I  had 
been  an  eld  friend  of  the  family.  She  did  not  visit  my 
mother,  for  they  were  not  in  the  same  set  of  society.  She 
knew  her,  however,  by  sight,  and  had  that  affectionate  re- 
spect for  her  character  which  every  one  felt  in  the  country. 
But  the  pride  of  my  uncles  and  aunts  would  not  have  per- 


268  LAMARTINE 

mitted  the  mixture  of  the  old  nobility  with  the  new  regime, 

or  allowed  them  to  be  invited  to  our  house.     We  only  met, 

;  therefore,  at  the  balls  of   the  Prefecture,  or  at  the  fetes  oc- 

I  casionally   given    in   the    Town    Hall,  when    there   was,    of 

;  course,  a  mixture  of  classes. 

Madame  P.  was  proud  of  her  daughter.  She  had  given 
her  the  education  of  an  artist.  She  had  learned  every  pos- 
sible accomplishment,  especially  dancing ;  that  silent  art 
which  suited  the  dangerous  times  in  which  we  lived,  when 
an  imprudent  or  incautious  word  might  have  had  serious 
consequences.  In  those  days  a  good  dancer  was  as  much 
esteemed  as  a  clever  orator  or  writer  is  now.  Mile.  P.  was 
really  a  modern  Terpsichore.  Her  tall  and  elegant  figure, 
the  perfect  suppleness  and  grace  of  her  movements,  the 
beauty  of  her  arms,  the  delicacy  of  her  feet,  the  soft  lan- 
guor of  her  expression,  captivated  every  one  even  before 
she  moved  ;  but  when  she  began  to  dance,  her  lightness 
was  such  that  she  seemed  hardly  to  touch  the  ground. 

Her  mother  never  took  her  eyes  off  her  child.  You  saw 
that  she  was  wrapt  up  in  her,  and  that  she  was  in  fact 
the  pride  of  her  life.  She  had  heard  people  speak  of  me 
as  having  had  a  brilliant  career  at  college,  of  which  not 
only  my  family  but  all  Macon  was  proud.  She  was  conse- 
quently flattered  that  I  should  have  become  the  admirer  of 
her  daughter.  She  treated  me  as  somebody  and  something 
above  the  rest,  and  flattered  my  self-love  almost  to  the  ex- 
tent of  compromising  her  charming  child.  In  the  very 
first  conversation  we  had  together  she  took  care  to  make 
me  understand  that  there  were  but  two  beings  among  the 
young  people  of  Macon  whom  she  considered  worthy  of  at- 
tention — her  daughter  and  myself :  the  one  for  her  beauty  and 
talents  ;  the  other  for  my  birth,  and  for  the  superiority  I 
had  shown  to  all  my  academical  rivals.  She  thus,  as  it 
were,  set  us  apart,  in  a  little  world,  to  ourselves — a  po- 
sition which  we  were  nothing  loth  to  accept.  At  our  very 
first  meeting  our  eyes  had  said  the  same  thing  to  each 
other,  and  we  did  not  want  even  her  mother's  help  to  fail 
in  love  !  Henceforth  there  was  a  sweet  mystery  between 
us ;  that  is^  we  adored  each  other,  and  despised  every  one 
else.     Her   mother   was    a    sort    of   accomplice,  as    she    had 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  269 

been,  from  the  first,  our   confidante.     I   very   soon   became 
the  friend  of  both,  and  the  habitui  of   the    house.     All  the 
town    seemed  to  me  to  favor  my  suit.     Every  one  was  full 
of  the  passionate  affection   which   had   broken   out   between 
the   queen   of   the    balls,  Mile.  P.,  and    the    young  student 
from  Milly,  who    had    so   distinguished    himself   at    college, 
and    had    fallen    in   love   at    first    sight.     Men    smiled   and  j 
women  sympathized  in  our  wooing.      My  family  only  either  | 
did  not  or  would  not  see  what  was  going  on ;   and   I    took  ! 
care  not  to  enlighten  them. 

There  was  a  lady  in  Macon,  Madame  L.,  who  was  noted 
for  her  beauty,  but  of  a  rather  doubtful  reputation,  and 
who  had  married,  late  in  life,  an  old  Knight  of  St.  I/>uis, 
who  was  a  near  relation  of  my  father's.  She  kept  open 
house,  receiving  every  evening  a  large  and  somewhat  mixed 
society,  among  whom  Madame  P.  and  her  daughter  were 
always  found.  When  eight  o'clock  struck,  Madame  1,.  used 
to  retire  to  her  own  apartments ;  but  the  party  went  on, 
and  Madame  P.  and  her  daughter  and  a  good  number  of 
young  people  stayed  chatting  till  midnight,  or  else  got  up 
some  music,  with  that  easy,  happy  familiarity  which  is  the 
result  of  intimate  acquaintance  on  all  sides.  One  heard 
bright  jokes  and  merry  laughter  all  round  ;  but  the  happiest 
were  those  who,  like  me,  leaning  over  the  piano,  listened 
breathlessly  to  the  touching  voice  which  spoke  words  under- 
stood only  by  ourselves.  Such  were  our  happy  evenings ; 
and,  when  we  parted,  it  was  sadly,  perhaps,  but  full  of 
hope  for  the  morrow.  We  did  not  use  to  say  much  to  each 
other,  but  our  silence  was  understood,  and  without  words 
we  knew  at  what  hour  we  should  pass  by  a  certain  street 
the  next  day,  at  what  precise  time  we  should  meet  in  the 
green  paths  of  St.  Clement,  and  exchange  a  look  —  without 
stopping  to  speak,  or  awakening  the  suspicion  of  indifferent 
people  ;  sure  of  one  another,  and  reckoning  on  making  up 
for  our  silence  by  a  long  talk  in  the  evening.  Until  then 
it  was  joy  enough  to  have  seen  each  other,  if  but  for  a 
moment.  When  a  ball  drew  near,  the  consultation  as  to  the 
dress  to  be  worn,  and  the  color  of  the  bouquets  to  be  chosen, 
was  quite  sufficient  to  satisfy  us.  Each  understood  the 
other,  and  our  hearts  needed  no  further  symptoms  of  a  love 


270  LAMARTINE 

which  knew  no  bounds.  Her  mother  did  not  attempt  to 
interfere  with  us.  I  saw,  on  the  contrary,  that  she  enjoyed 
it.  As  to  the  father,  he  never  appeared,  either  in  his  own 
house,  or  in  any  other  society.  He  was  constantly  at  mag- 
istrates' meetings,  or  in  his  own  quarters ;  and  only  saw 
his  child's  dress  as  she  crossed  the  road  to  go  to  the  ball, 
of  which  she  was  the  chief  ornament. 

Thus  passed  this  happy  and  mysterious  winter,  which 
appeared  to  me  to  last  but  a  day. 

However,  spring  came,  and  the  first  green  of  the  meadows 
gave  a  tender  shade  to  the  willow  leaves  by  the  river  side. 
Walks  outside  the  town,  in  which  we  always  contrived  to 
meet,  had  replaced  the  musical  soiries  at  Madame  de  I^.'s. 
A  young  lady  of  Macon  generally  accompanied  Mile.  P., 
and  by  her  amiable  conversation  enabled  me  to  have  many 
a  tHe-h-tite  talk  with  her  whom  I  loved.  We  profited  by 
these  moments,  which  friendship  had  so  good-naturedly  con- 
trived for  us  ;  and  it  was  very  rarely  that  we  met  any  one, 
or  were  interrupted.  However,  once  or  twice  we  met  a 
man  standing  at  the  corner  of  the  hedge  close  to  the  charm- 
ing village  of  St.  Clement,  and  he  always  bowed  and  looked 
at  us  with  a  certain  amount  of  curiosity.  This  gentleman, 
whom  I  only  knew  by  name,  was,  however,  well-known  in 
the  town.  He  was  an  old  friend  of  the  family  of  P.,  and 
lived,  since  the  Revolution,  on  a  pretty  little  property  in 
the  village  of  St.  Clement,  where  he  was  looked  upon  as  a 
speculative  philosopher,  given  chiefly  to  agriculture  and 
contemplation.  I  appeared  to  be  a  special  object  of  his  at- 
tention, which  rather  annoyed  me  and  made  me  anxious. 
I  fancied  that  the  rumor  of  my  attentions  to  the  young 
lady  had  reached  him,  and  that  he  perhaps  wished  to  judge 
by  my  appearance,  if  I  were  a  man  calculated  to  make  her 
happy.  I  did  not  dare  own  my  fears,  however,  to  her  who 
was  the  cause  of  them.  But,  before  long,  I  did  not  fail  to 
be  enlightened  on  the  subject. 

Some  days  after,  Madame  P.  told  me  that  M.  F.  C.  had 
the  custom  of  giving  a  little  file  champHre  every  spring  to 
her  daughter  and  herself  in  his  orchard  at  St.  Clement ; 
that  his  wife  helped  him  to  do  the  honors  with  her  beauti- 
ful flowers  and  her  fresh  eggs  and  cream,  which  were  noted 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  271 

all  over  the  country  ;  that  he  had  written  to  propose  the 
following  Sunday  in  the  afternoon  for  their  visit ;  that,  hav- 
ing seen  us  together  several  times,  he  had  ventured  to  ask 
me  to  join  them,  and  had  begged  her  to  be  the  bearer  of 
the  invitation.  I  was  delighted  to  have  my  share  in  this 
little  family  gathering,  and  concluded,  in  consequence,  that 
I  was  not  displeasing  to  their  old  friend  and  counselor.  I 
saw  that  Mile.  P.  was  equally  pleased,  and  prepared  myself 
joyfully  for  the  Sunday's  fite.  Madame  de  L.  and  Madame 
de  X.  were  also  invited  ;  but  I  was  the  only  man  admitted, 
which  filled  me  with   hope. 

At  last  the  Sunday  came,  and  Madame  P.,  her  daughter, 
her  two  friends,  and  I  started  separately  for  St.  Clement, 
not  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  Macon  gossips.  We  met 
in  the  steep  and  narrow  path  which  led  to  M.  F.  C.'s  villa, 
about  half  a  league  from  the  town,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
found  ourselves  at  the  door.  Mons.  and  Madame  F.  C. 
were  waiting  for  us  on  the  threshold,  and  received  us  as  if 
we  were  the  only  guests  they  expected  in  the  course  of  the 
year.  Their  first  kind  words  were  for  me.  <(  Young  man,* 
said  the  philosopher,  <(  you  are  welcome  to  my  hermitage  ; 
and,  as  you  are  the  friend  of  these  ladies,  you  must  look 
upon  us  likewise  as  your  friends,  for  we  have  none  dearer 
at  Macon. *  Then,  taking  the  arm  of  Mile.  P.,  while  his 
wife  took  the  other  ladies  into  the  house,  he  led  her  and 
me  all  over  the  gardens,  kiosks,  and  orchards  of  his  pretty 
home,  and  made  us  eat  the  strawberries  and  cherries  which 
grew  in  his  beds  in  such  wonderful  profusion.  "What  a 
delicious  place  !  *  we  exclaimed,  (<  and  how  one  would  like 
to  live  here  forever ! w  "Yes,"  replied  the  old  man,  smil- 
ing ;  (<  but  to  be  perfectly  happy  there  must  be  Two,  must 
there  not,  for  nature  only  seems  to  grant  happiness  to  man 
on  that  condition  ?  n  Mile.  P.  blushed  and  looked  at  me  as 
she  hung  down  her  head.  I  colored  too.  But  our  host 
did  not  seem  to  perceive  it,  and  went  on  gathering  some 
beautiful  large  gooseberries,  and  throwing  them  into  her 
lap,  while  our  talk  became  more  and  more  intimate,  till  at 
last  on  suddenly  turning  a  corner,  we  found  ourselves  op- 
posite a  thatched  summer-house,  where  the  luncheon  was 
already  prepared.     We  went  in  with  him,  and  exclaimed  at 


272  LAMARTINE 

the  beauty  of  the  fruit,  the  richness  and  thickness  of  the 
cream,  the  great  cheeses  of  St.  Clement,  the  dedicate  cakes, 
so  exquisitely  light  and  varied,  and  all  made  by  his  wife  ; 
and  at  the  good  wines,  both  white  and  red,  which  were  the 
produce  of  his  own  vineyard.  "  Let  us  sit  down,  dear  chil- 
dren,8 said  the  old  man,  (c  while  we  are  waiting  for  those 
ladies ;  let  us  have  a  little  comfortable  chat.  Now  tell  me 
young  man,  what  do  you  like  best  in  my  country  retreat?  * 
he  added,  with  a  kind  smile.  "  I  can  feel  nothing  but  the 
happiness  of  being  here,  sir,®  I  replied.  Mile.  P.  looked  at 
me  again  and  colored.  "But,*  he  continued,  "one  sees  the 
sun  this  year  everywhere.  So  you  do  the  running  waters, 
and  the  shady  nut  avenues,  and  the  flowers  and  the  fruits, 
Can  you  not  find  all  these  equally  at  M&con?*  I  smiled, 
and  replied,  (<Yes,  certainly  one  can  find  these  things  else- 
where.* "Well,  then,  it  is  not  this  which  makes  you  so 
happy  that  you  feel  that  you  cannot  be  more  so  !  What  is 
it,  then?  Now  to  enable  you  to  find  out,  I  am  going  to 
leave  you  for  a  few  moments,  and  go  and  seek  those  ladies. 
You  shall  tell  me  when  I  come  back.*  And  he  went  out 
with  an  air  of  secret  satisfaction,  and   left  us  together. 

As  for  me,  I  was  certainly  a  thousand  times  happier  than 
I  had  ever  been  in  my  life,  but  also  a  thousand  times  more 
timid  and  embarrassed.  My  looks,  my  sighs,  and  my  atten- 
tions had  often  told  her  the  state  of  my  feelings  ;  but  I  had 
never  ventured  on  any  actual  avowal  of  my  passion  till  this 
old  man,  as  it  were,  forced  it  upon  me.  Covering  my  face 
with  my  hands,  I  remained  silent. 

•  Let  me  go !  *  exclaimed  the  poor  child,  her  shaking 
voice  betraying  her  emotion ;  and  she  got  up  to  escape. 
These  words  broke  the  spell,  which  seemed  to  enchain  my 
speech.  "  Oh,  no  !  *  I  at  last  cried,  throwing  myself  at  her 
feet.  "  You  shall  not  go  till  my  heart  has  spoken.  Do  not 
look  at  me  ;  but  let  me  only  say  that  what  makes  me  so 
intensely  happy  here  is  neither  the  sun,  nor  the  trees,  nor 
the  flowers,  nor  the  waters ;  but  simply  that  I  am  here 
with  you,  and  that  I  can  at  last  tell  you  how  I  love  you.* 
A  soft  sigh  was  my  answer.  "Let  us  go,*  she  repeated; 
"though  I  have  said  nothing,  you  will  understand  me.* 
We  went  out  after  this  double   avowal,  both    of    us   scarlet 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  273 

with  tmotion,  and  soon  met  the  old  nan,  talking  in  a  low 
voice  with  Madame  P.,  who  was  leaning  on  his  arm.  We 
turned  away,  but  he  had  seen  our  troubled  faces,  and  under- 
stood all. 

When  we  returned  to  the  house,  we  found  the  rest  of 
the  company.  Madame  F.  C.  made  us  see  the  inside  of 
her  house,  the  library,  the  drawing-room,  the  court-yard, 
the  pigeon  and  chicken-houses,  until  our  emotion  was  a  little 
calmed,  and  then  they  came  to  announce  that  the  luncheon 
was  waiting  in  the  summer-house.  A  silent  joy  filled  both 
our  hearts,  which  were  overflowing  with  tenderness  and 
trust.  At  last  we  felt  sure  of  our  mutual  love.  The  old 
man  seemed  as  happy  as  we  were.  He  talked  to  us  all  the 
time  about  the  happiness  of  his  country  life,  alone  with  the 
only  human  being  he  cared  for,  and  who  was  his  wife. 
Mile.  P.  looked  at  me  from  time  to  time  with  a  soft  smile. 
I  felt  I  had  nothing  more  to  wish  for  here  below.  I  came 
back  in  the  evening,  walking  before  Madame  P.  and  her 
friends,  and  telling  her  daughter  all  the  thoughts  of  my 
heart  —  thoughts  which  I  did  not  know  I  possessed  till 
then,  and  which  she  alone  could  have  inspired.  Everything 
now  was  understood  and  clear  between  us,  and  we  had 
only  to  wait  till  circumstances  should  enable  us  to  con- 
summate the  happiness  the  first  germs  of  which  had  been 
revealed  to  us  in  the  summer-house. 

A  few  moments  later  our  hopes  were  rudely  dashed  to 
the  ground.  I  had  gone  home  with  them,  and  we  were 
sitting  side  by  side  on  a  sofa,  while  her  mother  was  dress- 
ing in  an  adjoining  room,  of  which  the  door  opened  into 
the  drawing-room.  We  spoke  low  ;  for  who  likes  such  con- 
fidences to  be  overheard,  however  innocent?  The  mother, 
who  thought  our  silence  strange,  suddenly  and  softly  opened 
her  door,  and  while  I  (who  had  my  back  turned  to  the 
door)  was  whispering  my  fond  hopes  into  the  ear  of  her 
daughter,  I  felt  a  heavy  hand  laid  upon  my  head  ;  while 
with  the  other  arm,  she  violently  pushed  her  child  away 
from  me.  (<  Is  this  the  riticence  which  you  had  promised 
me,  and  in  which  I  was  such  a  fool  as  to  confide  ?  Leave 
my  house  this  instant,  sir ;  and  you,  mademoiselle,  take 
care  never  to  appear  without  me  in  a  room  where  this 
18 


274  LAMARTINE 

young  man  is  present.  You  are  both  unworthy  of  my 
trust ! })  I  sprung  up,  humbled  and  indignant,  at  this  un- 
expected outburst.  Taking  my  hat,  I  prepared  to  leave ; 
but  protesting  against  this  unfair  imputation  on  the  purity 
of  her  child.  The  poor  girl  herself  burst  into  tears,  and 
indignantly  repelled  her  mother's  unworthy  suspicions. 
Madame  P.  saw  she  had  spoken  precipitately,  and  coloring, 
made  some  excuse.  After  a  time  we  made  it  up.  We 
promised  to  hold  our  tongues,  and  be  only  to  each  other  as 
a  very  dear  brother  and  sister.  Our  love  remained  the  same 
as  ever  —  the  dream  of  two  young  pure  hearts,  who  had 
nothing  to  reproach  themselves  with  but  love. 

It  was,  however,  impossible  to  stop  the  gossip  of  the 
town,  and  the  affair  soon  came  to  the  ears  of  my  family. 
My  mother  spoke  to  me  about  it.  I  answered  by  asserting 
that  I  never  could  love  a  more  accomplished  or  charming 
girl.  She  was  wise,  and  agreed  with  me  as  to  the  superior- 
ity of  Mile.  P.  ;  but  she  represented  to  me,  tenderly  yet 
firmly,  that  we  were  both  too  young  to  think  of  settling 
in  life,  and  that  we  must  wait  many  years  before  it  would 
be  prudent  to  think  of  marriage.  This  answer  calmed  and 
quieted  us,  without  extinguishing  our  mutual  passion.  Not 
Jo  argue  or  positively  refuse,  but  to  counsel  hope  and  pa- 
tience, is  the  wisest  remedy  for  the  insane  desire  of  extreme 
youth.  I  felt  that  I  must  have  some  change  of  scene  and 
thought.  My  family  were  of  the  same  opinion,  and  ar- 
ranged it  as  if  by  chance. 

The  daughter  of  Madame  de  Roquemont  (that  cousin  of 
my  mother's  of  whom  I  have  before  spoken)  had  just  mar- 
ried at  Lyons.  The  honeymoon  was  to  be  spent  in  Italy. 
Certain  business  reasons  served  as  a  pretext  for  the  young 
couple  to  visit  Milan  and  Leghorn,  where  their  parents  had 
correspondents  in  certain  commercial  houses.  It  was  settled 
that  I  was  to  accompany  them.  Three  months  before  they 
had  come  to  Macon  to  see  my  mother,  and  now  they  re- 
turned to  arrange  about  the  time  of  our  departure. 

This  journey  to  Italy  was  an  immense  joy  to  me.  I  left 
my  love,  it  was  true,  but  only  for  a  few  months,  with  the 
certainty  that  she  would  remain  true  to  me,  and  with  her 
equally  firm    persuasion    that  I  should    return  with  a  heart 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  275 

as  devoted  to  her  as  ever.  The  trial  was  short ;  the  hap- 
piness certain.  So  I  gave  my  whole  mind  to  learning 
Italian,  and  devoted  myself  especially  to  Tasso,  Ariosto, 
Alfieri,  and  others.  Toward  the  end  of  that  spring  we 
parted.  I  had  a  perfect  thirst  for  traveling.  It  seemed  to 
me  like  the  passion  of  the  Infinite,  which  had  no  limits. 
Each  new  country  appeared  as  a  new  world  added  to  crea- 
tion.  My  delighted  curiosity  seemed  to  grow  at  every  turn 
of  the  wheel. 

At  last  we  got  to  leghorn,  on  the  borders  of  that 
exquisite  Mediterranean  —  a  visible  infinity  to  infinite 
thought ! 

My  traveling  companions  having  the  intention  of  spending 
some  months  here,  took  a  house  ;  while  I  went  to  a  hotel 
in  the  next  street,  from  whence  I  came  every  day  to  dine 
with  the  family.  I  passed  several  months  in  this  way, 
hard  at  work  all  day  at  the  Lingua  Toscana  ;  and  all  the 
evenings  at  the  theatre  or  the  opera  ;  but  I  found  time  to 
write  to  my  mother,  and  that  with  all  the  pride  of  my 
newly  acquired  knowledge.  I  may  say  that  this  time  was 
my  honeymoon  of  thought :  my  enthusiasm  had  found  a 
new  element  on  which  to  feed.  I  wrote  also  occasionally" 
to  Mile.  P.;  but,  at  the  risk  of  shocking  my  readers,  I 
must  own  that  my  passion  for  her  had  a  good  deal  cooled, 
and  at  last  froze,  like  a  globe  which  is  removed  from  the 
sun.  I  had  a  pleasing  remembrance  of  her,  but  that  was^ 
all  ;  my  new  passion  for  traveling  had  extinguished  my 
rural  flame  of  St.  Clement.  The  remarkable  faces  of  the 
Italian  women  had  not  perhaps  more  beauty  than  Mile.  P., 
but  of  a  far  more  sensational  kind.  And  then  they  were 
Tuscans,  and  their  beautiful  tongue  seemed  to  me  to  have 
the  accent  of  heaven  itself. 

The  month  of  October  drew  near  when  we  were  to  start 
for  Rome  and  Naples.  But  letters  from  Lyons  changed  the 
plans  of  my  companions.  It  was  decided  that  they  should 
return  home  at  once,  without  proceeding  any  farther  on 
that  delightful  tour  which  we  had  planned  together!  The 
blow  was  terrible  ;  but  I  soon  determined  that  their  plans 
should  not  affect  mine.  I  wrote  to  my  father  begging  his 
permission  to  continue  my  journey,  saying  that  T  was  only 


276  LAMARTINE 

a  few  steps  from  Rome,  that  dream  of  my  youth,  and  very 
few  more  from  Naples,  the  centre  of  all  human  delights  ; 
that  it  would  be  too  cruel  to  dash  the  cup  from  my 
lips,  which  I  had  only  just  begun  to  taste ;  that  I  had 
enough  money  to  spend  the  winter  at  Rome ;  that,  in  the 
spring,  I  should  obtain  from  M.  Dareste  de  la  Chavanne 
(a  relation  of  my  mother's  living  in  Italy)  the  sum  neces- 
sary to  go  on  to  Naples ;  and  that,  therefore,  I  was  going  to 
take  his  permission  for  granted  and  start  for  Rome  where 
his  answer  would  find  me.  It  was  a  bold  step  on  my  part ; 
but,  after  all,  not  an  unreasonable  one. 

Having  written,  I  waited  a  few  days  for  a  reply ;  de- 
termined, however,  that,  should  it  be  in  the  negative,  it 
would  arrive  too  late ;  and  then  started  joyfully  back  to 
Florence,  to  make  the  necessary  arrangements  for  my  soli- 
tary journey  to  Rome. 

There  were  only  two  regular  ways  of  traveling  at  that 
time  in  Italy  —  by  post  or  vettuiino  ;  but  the  former  was 
beyond  my  means,  and  the  latter  was  too  hopelessly  slow. 
Sometimes  one  had  to  wait  for  five  or  six  days  before  the 
driver  had  made  up  his  party  ;  and  then,  going  on  always 
with  the  same  horses,  which  had  to  stop  and  bait  con- 
tinually on  the  road,  you  were  an  age  reaching  your  desti- 
nation. 

From  time  to  time,  however,  you  could  get  a  place  in 
the  mail-cart ;  and  that  I  determined  to  try  for.  A  man 
named  Taglia  Vino  offered  me  a  place  in  one  of  these 
conveyances;  we  were  to  sleep  for  two  or  three  hours  in 
an  osteria  in  the  mountains  ;  but  to  reach  Rome  in  four  or 
five  days.  I  agreed  to  be  ready  the  following  evening  at 
night- fall  in  one  of  the  faubourgs  of  Florence ;  and  accord- 
ingly, at  the  given  hour,  Taglia  Vino  and  his  carriage 
made  their  appearance. 

I  found  four  persons  already  settled  inside,  but  my 
curiosity  as  to  my  fellow-travelers  had  to  wait  till  daylight, 
for  they  all  went  to  sleep  soon  after  we  started. 

The  first  was  a  young  man  toward  whom  every  one 
showed  great  respect.  Taglia  Vino  knew  him  and  called 
him  ((M.  Le  Duc,M  and  was  constantly  on  the  watch  to  do 
him   some   little  service.     This  care   seemed    to   me   to   be 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  277 

needful;  for  though  the  weather  was  excessively  cold,  and 
we  had  to  cross  the  snowy  mountains  of  Camaldoli,  he 
wore  the  thinnest  possible  coat,  with  short  breeches,  silk 
stockings,  and  thin  shoes,  as  if  he  had  just  come  out  of  a 
ball-room.  The  very  sight  of  him  froze  me ;  but  he  did 
not  seem  to  feel  it,  and  continued  his  journey  with  great 
gayety  and  good  humor.  The  second  was  a  young  man 
with  a  charming  countenance,  who  appeared  to  be  the  son 
of  the  actor  Davide,  an  old  and  well-known  singer,  who 
was  very  famous  at  that  time  in  Italy.  You  will  very 
soon  see  why  I  said  appeared  to  be  the  son.  This 
young  man  had  the  long  hair  of  a  woman  hanging  over 
his  shoulders ;  his  features  were  soft  and  delicate,  but  his 
black  eyes  brilliant  and  bold.  I  could  not  help  lowering 
mine  when  he  looked  at  me.  The  third  traveler  was 
Davide  himself,  a  cheery,  fat,  jolly  old  man,  a  good  and 
rather  comical  talker,  and  reminding  one  of  L,ablache. 
Everything  he  said  began  with  a  joke  and  ended  by  a  / 
hearty  laugh.     No  one  could  help  liking  him. 

We  were  very  soon  all  four  fast  friends.  The  pretended 
son  of  Davide  seemed  to  be  particularly  attracted  by  me. 
He  always  followed  me  when  we  got  out  of  the  carriage 
to  walk  up  the  hills,  and  explained  the  country  to  me 
which  he  knew  thoroughly.  At  Terni  he  pointed  out  the 
remains  of  the  magnificent  Roman  bridge  the  arches  of 
which  unite  the  hills  of  Clitumna  to  the  Roman  Campagna. 
When  we  first  caught  sight  of  the  Eternal  City  on  her 
Seven  Hills,  the  Duke,  Davide,  and  his  companion  urged 
me  to  go  and  lodge  with  them  in  the  Via  Condotti,  at  the 
inn  where  they  generally  stayed,  and  which  was  the  ren- 
dezvous of  the  greater  portion  of  the  French,  German,  and 
Swiss  travelers.  I  accepted  their  proposal  with  joy ;  it 
made  me  feel  at  once  at  home,  and  as  if  my  companions 
and  myself  had  become  one  family  ;  Taglia  Vino  even  was 
less  of  a  driver  than  a  friend. 

At  last,  toward  evening,  we  perceived,  above  the  fogs  of 
the  Tiber,  something  immense,  which  seemed  to  float  in 
the  heavens  and  which  reflected  the  last  rays  of  the  setting 
sun.  It  was  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's.  The  night  was 
closing  in   when   we   reached   the    Piazza  del   Popolo.     The 


278  LAMARTINE 

Via  Condotti  was   to   be  our  destination;    they  gave  me  a 

very  pretty  room,  and  the  Duke  went    to   the   opera  to  see 

his  illustrious  parents ;    Davide  and   his  son  were  lodged  in 

an  adjoining    apartment.     I  could  not  sleep  for  thinking  of 

Rome:    it   was,    however,  very   sad   and   very  desolate   just 

J  then.     There   was   neither   Pope    nor   Cardinals ;    Bonaparte 

I    had    made   a   clean   sweep  of    them    all.     The   Pope  was  at 

\  Savona. 

The  next  morning  on  going  down  to  breakfast  I  found 
the  good  Davide  and  his  companion,  the  latter  transformed 
into  a  beautiful  woman.  Her  name  was  Camilla ;  she  was 
a  singer  in  Davide' s  theatre,  whom  he  took  about  with  him 
from  kindness,  so  that  she  might  be  under  his  care  and 
protection. 

"One's  clothes  do  not  change  one's  heart, *  said  Camilla 
to  me,  smiling  at  my  astonishment.  "Only  you  will  no 
longer  sleep  on  my  shoulder,  and,  instead  of  receiving 
flowers  from  me,  you  must  get  me  some."  Davide  and  his 
pupil  spent  several  weeks  at  Rome.  Camilla  knew  the 
town  by  heart,  and  used  to  take  me  at  the  best  hours  for 
seeing  this  beautiful  city  —  the  morning  under  the  dome 
of  the  stone  pines  in  the  Pincio ;  the  evening  under  the 
shade  of  the  grand  colonnade  of  St.  Peter's ;  by  moonlight 
in  the  solemn  inclosure  of  the  Coliseum ;  and  in  the 
glorious  autumn  days  to  Albano,  Frascati,  or  the  Temple 
of  the  Sybil,  echoing  with  the  foaming  cascades  of  Tivoli. 
Camilla  was  bright  and  gay,  like  a  figure  of  eternal  youth 
amidst  these  vestiges  of  bygone  times ;  she  danced  on  the 
tomb  of  Cecilia  Metella ;  and  while  I  was  sitting  dreaming 
on  a  funeral  mole  her  beautiful  but  somewhat  theatrical 
voice  echoed  through  the  Palace  of  Diocletian, 

In  the  evening  we  returned  to  the  city,  our  carriage  full 
of  flowers  and  fragments  of  marble,  and  rejoined  her  old 
companion  Davide,  whose  affairs  kept  him  at  Rome,  and 
who  took  us  to  finish  our  day  in  his  opera  box.  The  fair 
singer,  who  was  a  good  deal  older  than  I  was,  had  no  other 
feeling  for  me  than  a  kind  of  brotherly  liking.  I  was  much 
too  shy  to  show  any  other ;  but,  besides,  I  did  not  feel 
any  more  affection  than  herself  in  spite  of  her  beauty  and 
my  youth.     Her  man's  dress,  her  easy  familiarity,  the  male 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  279 

sound  of  her  contralto  voice,  and  the  freedom  of  her  man- 
ners, gave  the  impression  of  her  being  simply  a  handsome 
young  man,  whom  I  could  treat  as  a  companion  and  a 
friend.  When  Davide  left  the  hotel  in  the  Via  Condotti,  I 
went  to  seek  a  lodging  for  the  winter  elsewhere. 

I  had  taken  an  Italian  professor,  who  had  been  introduced 
to  me  by  a  German  of  great  distinction,  the  brother  of  M. 
de  Humboldt  and  an  eminent  diplomatist,  who  dined  at  the 
same  table  d'hftte  as  myself  in  the  Via  Condotti.  This  old 
professor  was  called  Giunto  Tardi.  He  was  a  very  hand- 
some man,  and  had  married  a  Russian  widow  lady.  He 
had  been  named  consul  at  Rome  during  the  short-lived 
reign  of  the  Republic,  which  the  French  soldiers  had  quickly 
crushed.  Giunto  Tardi  had  gone  quietly  back  to  his  position 
as  a  Roman  citizen  ;  but  his  moderation  and  justice,  during 
his  short  tenure  of  office,  had  given  him  a  high  place  in 
the  esteem  and  consideration  of  his  countrymen.  He  lived 
as  a  poor  man,  but  much  respected  in  the  town  which  he 
had  governed,  and  maintained  himself  by  teaching  rich 
strangers  his  native  language.  I  took  him  not  only  to  teach 
me  Italian,  but  as  a  master  of  literature,  and  we  became 
great  friends.  I  shall  have  occasion  later  to  mention  his  ] 
brother,  who  bore  the  same  name,  but  who  was  a  distin- 
guished painter.  I  was  his  guest  for  a  few  days,  and  he 
set  me  the  example  of  every  Christian  virtue.  /> 

M.  de  Humboldt,  the  Prussian  diplomat,  was  a  man  whom  ^ 
I  thought   far   superior   to   his   brother,  the   author  of    "A  1 
Journey  to  South  America, *    and    <(  Cosmos,*  whom    I    also   [ 
knew  but  esteemed    less,  in    spite    of    his   great    name   and   \ 
reputation.     A  clever  man  he  was ;    but  without  much  real    ' 
merit;    it  would  be  difficult  to  cite   anything   remarkable  in 
his  works,  except  his  adulation  of  French  philosophers  and 
heroes  of   various  shades  of   opinion,  as   he   had  discovered 
that  theirs  was  the  only  real  European  glory.     People  speak  \ 
of  him  as  (<  the  friend  of  Arago,"    (Cof  Chateaubriand, »  «of  ( 
Napoleon, >}    <(  of   Louis   XVIII., B    etc.,  etc.;    he   always,    in  ( 
fact,   worshiped  the    rising  sun,  and    managed  to  get    a    re-    / 
flection  from  its  ra}-s.     This  reflection    (accumulated  during 
thirty  years)   made  him  appear  to  many  as   a  bright    light, 
while  he  was  in  reality  only  a  flashing  fire-work. 


280  LAMARTINE 

When  one  considers  his  extraordinary  reputation  and  the 
mediocrity  of  his  talents,  one  is  bound  to  acknowledge  thaf 
he  was  a  master  of  savoir  /aire.  His  brother,  on  the  con- 
trary,  was  a  frank,  modest,  and  clever  statesman.  He  flat- 
tered none,  but  won  the  good-will  and  esteem  of  every 
one.  This  is  the  feeling  with  which  he  inspired  me  a* 
eighteen,  and  I  have  seen  no  reason  to  change  my  opinion 
since.  The  other  obtained  his  reputation  by  a  cheat,  whicV- 
is  worse  than  not  having  deserved  it. 

When  Davide,  Camilla,  and  M.  de  Humboldt  were  gone, 
I  stayed  alone  in  Rome  with  no  other  companions  than  the 
monuments  and  ruins,  which  Camilla  had  made  familiar  to 
me,  and  my  Italian  master.  I  asked  the  latter  if  he  would 
allow  me  to  make  acquaintance  with  his  brother,  to  which 
he  consented.  I  went  daily  to  see  him.  His  studio  was  an 
isolated  convent  in  an  obscure  corner  of  Rome.  He  sold 
me  a  charming  picture  of  the  Cascades  of  Tivoli  for  a  few 
Roman  scudi.  It  is  a  model  of  beauty  and  patient  skill.  I 
still  have  it  at  St.  Point,  and  look  at  it  whenever  I  wish  to 
remember  those  happy,  peaceful  days. 

Another  artist,  a  lady  named  Bianca  Boni,  did  a  beauti- 
ful copy  of  Guido  for  me  which  I  have  never  parted  with. 
It  is  a  Virgin,  but  with  an  exquisite  expression.  The  fea- 
tures are  angelic,  and  the  forehead,  mouth,  and  neck  are 
positively  radiant  with  light.  Her  eyes  are  looking  up- 
ward, as  if  they  could  not  think  of  sublunary  matters.  A 
large  blue  veil  falls  over  her  head,  hides  her  hair,  and 
falls  on  her  shoulders.  Everything  in  this  composition  is 
ideal,  chaste,  and  pure ;  it  is  better  than  a  woman,  and 
more  than  an  angel  ;  it  is  the  Virgin  before  the  Annuncia- 
tion. 

I  had  my  picture  taken  by  Bianca  for  my  mother  ;  and 
as  she  was  young,  gentle,  and  very  attractive,  I  was  fool 
enough  to  fall  in  love  with  her,  and  let  her  see  it.  She 
was  furious,  destroyed  the  likeness  she  had  taken  of  me, 
and  sent  me  back  the  money  she  had  received  for  the  por- 
trait. I  wrote  a  humble  note  of  excuse  and  apology,  and 
left  the  sum  again  at  her  door,  telling  her  that  I  had  been 
justly  punished  in  being  deprived  of  the  work  of  her 
hands  ;  but  that  it  was  not  just    that   she   should   lose   the 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  281 

price  of  her  time  which  was  so  precious  to  her  ;  and  so 
implored  her  to  receive  back  the  money.  But  she  was  in- 
exorable, and  made  me  feel  that  these  great  Italian  artists 
are  likwise  women  of  high  and  unimpeachable  virtue.  I 
distributed  the  money  she  would  not  accept  among  the 
poor.  Such  was  the  result  of  my  first  adventure  in  Rome. 
Bianca  Boni  inspired  me  ever  after  with  a  respect  which 
was  worth  a  good  deal  more  than  rny  stupid  affection. 

The  old  painter,  brother  of  Giunto  Tardi,  was  another 
object  of  my  esteem  ;  I  might  almost  say,  of  my  venera- 
tion. He  rarely  left  his  studio  but  to  go  to  mass  with  his 
wife  and  daughter,  a  young  girl  of  sixteen,  as  virtuous 
and  good  as  himself.  Their  house  was  a  species  of  monas- 
tery where  work  was  only  interrupted  by  a  frugal  repast 
and  by  prayer. 

One  day,  at  the  table  cThtite  of  the  Via  Condotti,  I  be- 
came acquainted  with  a  young  I^yons  merchant,  who,  after 
a  time,  proposed  that  we  should  go  together  to  Naples. 
This  young  man  was  gentle,  good,  and  well  educated.  I 
accepted  his  proposal,  and  had  no  occasion  to  repent  it. 
He  was  a  very  agreeable  companion,  and  we  started  in  his 
own  carriage. 

We  slept  at  Terracina,  the  brigands  having  made  night 
traveling  too  perilous.  We  went  on  the  next  day,  and 
suddenly  heard  a  succession  of  shots  fired  in  an  olive  wood 
on  our  left.  Soon  we  came  upon  a  carriage  half  burned 
lying  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  which  was  that  of  the 
courier  from  Rome  to  Naples.  The  bodies  of  two  travelers 
were  lying  dead  on  the  roadside,  and  a  wounded  horse  lay 
in  the  middle.  Some  soldiers  were  guarding  them,  while 
others  were  pursuing  the  assassins,  and  firing  on  them  as 
they  fled  from  rock  to  rock  of  the  mountains  above  us. 
We  were  very  much  shocked,  and  continued  our  journey 
not  a  little  saddened  by  the  scene  we  had  just  witnessed. 

We  arrived  at  Naples  as  the  night  fell  ;  the  noise  and 
bustle  of  the  streets  and  public  thoroughfares  positively 
deafened  us  ;  while  the  sea  was  lit  up  by  the  reflection  of 
the  countless  lights  which  burned  in  the  shop  windows,  or 
in  the  niches  of  the  Madonna.  We  drove  through  the 
street  of  the  <(  Florentines, w  which  cror-ses  that  of  <(  Toledo,* 


282  LAMARTINE 

and  stopped  at  an  hotel  well  known  to  my  Lyons  friend. 
After  the  silence  and  stillness  of  Rome  we  seemed  to  have 
passed  into  a  new  world.  The  next  morning  I  was  woke 
by  some  monks  who  sang  verses  in  our  honor,  and  brought 
us  magnificent  fruits  from  Castelamare,  and  other  presents 
from  the  convent,  for  which,  however,  we  had  to  pay 
handsomely.  Then  I  got  into  a  little  carriage  and  went  all 
over  this  enchanting  town.  I  was  quite  delighted.  No 
city  had  ever  produced  such  a  magical  effect  upon  me  ; 
Rome  was  a  monastery,  Naples  the  Garden  of  Eden. 

Nature  and  man  seemed  to  have  combined  to  produce 
this  most  perfect  spot.  From  the  moment  of  my  arrival  I 
was  scarcely  myself  ;  I  was  boiling  all  over  with  emotion,  and 
could  not  stay  still  in  one  place.  I  rushed  off  to  the  post- 
office  ;  they  spread  out  a  quantity  of  letters  on  a  board  be- 
fore me.  I  found  one  addressed  to  myself,  which  was 
given  to  me  readily  enough  when  I  had  paid  the  postage 
It  was  from  my  old  friend  M.  de  Virieu,  to  whom  I  had 
written  from  Rome.  He  replied  that  he  was  just  starting 
from  Grand  Iyemps  with  his  mother's  consent,  and  with  a 
letter  of  credit  on  Rome  and  Naples,  and  that  he  should 
join  me  almost  as  soon  as  I  had  received  his  letter. 

In  fact  he  arrived  a  very  few  days  after.  He  met  me  at 
the  hotel  Fiorentino,  where  I  had  prepared  a  room  for  him, 
and  where  we  became  intimate  with  a  young  Calabrian 
gentleman,  who  initiated  us  into  the  mysteries  of  gambling. 
This  was  the  first  time  that  that  wonderful  temptation  had 
assailed  us.  At  that  period  in  Naples  the  great  game  was 
the  trenta  e  quaranta,  played  in  a  public  room  at  the  end  of 
the  Via  di  Toledo.  This  young  Calabrian  was  married,  but 
as  inexperienced  as  ourselves.  We  used  to  spend  hours  in 
losing  or  spending  a  few  carlini.  I 

I  had  all  this  time  a  kind  of  compunction  about  certain 
letters  of  introduction  which  my  mother  had  given  me  to 
M.  de  la  Chavanne,  director  of  the  tobacco  manufactory  at 
Naples,  and  which  I  had  hitherto  neglected  to  deliver. 
Liberty  without  control  seemed  to  me  infinitely  pleasanter. 
At  last,  however,  I  felt  that  I  could  no  longer  delay  m}' 
visit.  I  inquired  for  his  house  and  was  directed  to  a  mag- 
nificent   establishment    dedicated    to  St.   Pietro    Martyro,  in 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  283 

the  most  noisy  quarter  of  the  town,  it  was  just  midday; 
I  climed  up  a  magnificent  staircase  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty  steps  till  I  got  to  the  fifth  or  sixth  story.  Below 
was  a  large  garden  surrounded  with  arcades.  These  arcades 
and  the  lower  story  of  the  house  were  filled  with  vats, 
workshops,  and  other  things  belonging  to  the  state  manu- 
factory. I  took  in  every  detail  of  this  picture,  which  re- 
mained indelibly  impressed  upon  my  mind,  as  it  led  to  one 
of  the  great  events  of  my  life,  and  in  fact  was  to  bring 
about  a  decisive  change  in  my  existence. 

Arriving  out  of  breath  at  the  top  story,  I  rung  at  a 
great  door  which  gave  entrance  to  a  large  and  long  cloister, 
out  of  which  opened  different  doors  to  the  right  and  left. 
At  the  end  of  this  gallery  were  three  large  windows  called 
finestrati,  which  threw  a  brilliant  light  on  the  cloister  it- 
self. A  number  of  young  girls  crossed  and  recrossed  this 
place  every  moment,  carrying  I  knew  not  what  in  their 
aprons.  I  found  afterward  that  these  children  were  em- 
ployed in  choosing  the  finest  tobacco  leaves  for  the  manu- 
facture of  cigarettes.  I  was  far  from  imagining  that  one 
of  these  very  girls  would  soon  become  Graziella,  change 
her  occupation,  and  influence  forever  my  future  life.  I  did  ' 
not  dare  own  the  truth  when  in  1847  I  wrote  the  novel  of 
<(  Graziella,"  which  had  such  a  success  because  every  one 
recognized  that  it  was  true  to  nature.  I  had  from  vanity 
altered  the  first  few  pages,  but  all  the  rest  was  exact. 
Now  I  am  going  to  make  a  full  confession  of  the  whole 
facts,  and  give  you  the  true  history  of  <(  Graziella.  * 

At  the  end  of  the  cloister  to  the  right,  I  perceived  an 
open  door  and  a  good  many  servants,  going  backward  and 
forward,  carrying  plates  and  dishes,  while  inside  the  room 
I  heard  the  clatter  of  knives  and  forks.  I  saw  I  had  in- 
opportunely chosen  the  time  of  M.  le  Directeur's  breakfast ; 
but  it  was  too  late  to  go  back ;  I  had  already  sent  in  my 
card  and  was  announced. 

No  sooner  had  he  heard  my  name,  than  M.  de  la  Cha- 
vanne  rose  and  received  me  with  open  arms,  exclaiming, 
(<  He  is  the  very  image  of  his  mother  !  w  He  embraced  me 
with  the  greatest  warmth  and  tenderness,  and  made  me  sit 
down    on    a    sofa    under    the    window    which    lighted    the 


284  LAMARTINE 

breakfast-room.  I  found  out  that  this  house  had  been  a 
monastery,  and  that  we  were  in  the  room  of  the  old  superior 
of  St.  Pietro  Martyro.  Two  other  persons  were  breakfast- 
ing with  M.  de  la  Chavanne :  one  from  twenty  to  twenty- 
five  years  old,  named  Antoniella — a  pleasing  person  but 
with  nothing  very  striking  about  her  ;  she  was  evidently 
on  intimate  and  confidential  terms  with  the  director,  and 
had,  as  I  afterward  found,  the  superintendence  of  the  young 
girls  employed  in  the  cigar  manufactory  ;  the  other  was  a 
most  charming  girl,  but  of  her  I  shall  speak  later.  Our 
conversation,  in  which  neither  young  lady  took  a  part, 
turned  entirely  on  my  mother  and  her  family.  M.  de  la 
Chavanne  declared  that  he  would  never  allow  me  to  remain 
in  a  hotel  at  Naples,  and  that  he  would  give  me  a  charm- 
ing little  room  in  his  house  looking  on  the  sea.  He  got 
up  to  show  it  to  me,  and  I  found  a  most  comfortable  room 
with  a  camp  bed  and  a  winding  staircase  leading  up  to  the 
at  roof  of  this  immense  convent,  from  whence  there  was  a 
lorious  view  of  the  sea,  with  Capri,  Sorrento,  and  Vesuvius. 
A  trellised  wall  sheltered  a  portion  of  this  beautiful  terrace 
from  the  wind ;  so  that  you  were  at  the  same  time  warmed 
with  the  genial  Italian  sun  and  your  head  shaded  from  its 
rays.  I  came  down  quite  delighted  with  my  little  apart- 
ment, promising  myself  the  pleasure  of  occupying  it  as  soon 
as  possible.  " 

M.  de  la  Chavanne,  of  whom  my  mother  had  often  spoken 
to  me,  was  a  man  of  between  forty  and  fifty  years  of  age, 
and  of  remarkable  goodness  ;  his  frank,  cheery  face  and 
cordial  manner  made  one  love  him  at  first  sight.  He  was 
tall  and  large  ;  his  honest  blue  eyes  looked  you  straight  in 
the  face,  and  his  mouth  alone  would  have  told  you  his 
character  ;  it  was  the  very  type  of  benevolence  and  sweet- 
ness. It  was  really  impossible  not  to  love  him.  He  had 
served  valiantly  with  his  countrymen  against  the  army 
of  the  Convention  at  the  siege  of  Lyons.  This  siege  had 
ruined  him,  and  he  had  sought  refuge  in  Italy.  Here  Mu- 
rat,  king  of  Naples,  had  given  him  the  directorship  of  the 
state  tobacco  manufactory,  a  lucrative  and  honorable  post. 
He  established  himself  at  Naples,  and  became  rich  and 
happy.     He  had  left  his  wife  and   several   sons   in    France, 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  285 

whom  she  had  brought  up  admirably.  From  time  to  time 
she  came  to  see  him  ;  he  loved  her  devotedly,  and  was 
equally  loved  by  her  ;  the  necessity  of  being  so  often  sep- 
arated from  her  was  the  only  thing  which  ever  embittered 
his  life.  He  lived  at  Naples  as  an  exile  ;  but  as  one  who 
endeavored  to  forget  it  by  active  work  for  those  dear  to 
him.  He  was  adored  by  all  the  French  in  Naples  and  by 
the  Neapolitans  themselves,  who  knew  him  by  the  continual 
kind  services  which  his  position  enabled  him  to  render 
them.  He  was  always  kind  and  generous,  fond  of  young 
people,  and  ever  ready  to  contribute  to  their  amusements. 
Such  was  the  man  into  whose  home  I  had  thus  been  ad- 
mitted, and  I  could  have  found  no  one  so  worthy  of  my 
esteem  and  affection.  In  taking  leave  of  him,  I  felt  the 
attraction  which  he  universally  inspired,  and  promised  to 
return  in  a  few  days  and  take  advantage  of  his  generous  hos- 
pitality. I  had  not  then  scarcely  realized  the  secret  and  in-^f 
vincible  charm  which  strengthened  my  resolution  ;  t.  e. ,  the  I 
thought  of  seeing  once  more  the  fascinating  face  I  had  had  / 
a  glimpse  of  at  his  table.  ' 

On  returning  to  Virieu,  to  whom  I  had  to  break  my  ap- 
proaching separation  from  him  in  obedience  to  my  mother's 
wishes,  I  went  to  the  post  and  there  found  a  letter  directed 
to  me  in  an  unknown  writing  from  Macon,  which  I 
opened  with  a  trembling  hand.  It  was  from  the  old  man  of 
St.  Clement,  the  friend  of  Madame  P.,  and  ran  as  fol- 
lows :  — 

"Sir, —  Your  age  and  position  made  me  believe  that  }rour 
affection  for  Mile.  Henriette  P.  (of  which,  as  an  old  friend 
of  her  family,  I  had  heartily  approved),  would  result  in  a 
union  which  would  secure  your  joint  happiness ;  your  de- 
parture and  prolonged  absence  have  given  rise  to  certain 
doubts  and  scruples  in  my  mind.  Mile.  Henriette  is  very 
young,  and  so  are  you ;  you  are  not  yet  your  own  master, 
and  you  cannot  answer  for  the  wishes  of  your  parents.  I 
am,  therefore,  charged  to  tell  you,  in  her  mother's  name,  that 
proposals  of  marriage  have  been  made  to  her  by  another 
person,  whose  character  and  fortune  promise  her  that 
which,  I  fear,  it  would  not  be   in   your  power  to   give  her 


286  LAMARTINE 

for  many  years.  Be  so  good  then,  as  to  examine  your  own 
heart  and  conscience,  and  to  let  me  know  whether  you 
still  have  the  same  feelings  for  this  young  lady  as  when 
you  left  M&con ;  and  if  her  family  may  expect  from  you 
as  favorable  settlements  as  those  which  are  now  offered  her 
elsewhere.     We  wait  for  your  answer,  and  remain,8  etc. 

This  letter,  which  was  evidently  written  with  the  concur- 
rence of  Madame  P. ,  if  not  of  her  daughter,  troubled  me  very 
much.  I  took  some  days  to  think  about  it;  I  certainly  was 
anything  but  free  to  choose  ;  I  had  nothing,  or  next  to  noth- 
ing, of  my  own.  I  could  only  love  her ;  but  I  could  not,  with- 
out great  imprudence,  answer  for  the  consent  of  my  family 
to  a  union,  which  I  was  not  quite  sure  now  of  even  wish- 
ing for  myself.  So  I  wrote  a  frank  and  prudent  letter, 
explaining  my  position,  and  virtually  leaving  the  decision 
in  the  hands  of  Mile.  P.  herself. 

I  learned  soon  after  that  she  was  about  to  marry  her 
other  suitor.  I  regretted  her;  but  I  felt  that  her  parents 
were  right  not  to  sacrifice  the  future  of  their  child  to  an 
illusion  of  seventeen.  Thus  ended  my  first  love  dream, 
which  was  only  a  short  but  delicious  bit  of  imaginary 
happiness. 
f  I  did  not  see  her  again  for  thirty  years,  when  we  met, 
with  some  regret  perhaps,  but  with  no  bitterness.  There 
are  passages  of  this  sort  in  most  men's  lives,  which  seem 
to  be  but  dreams  of  our  first  youth.  Mile.  P.  was  one  of 
those  fancies.  She  was  very  happy  in  her  married  life, 
and  was  united  to  one  who  was  far  more  worthy  of  her 
than  myself.  I  was  still  a  child,  and  scarcely  knew  my 
own  mind.     But  I  wished  to  be  sincere  and  loyal. 

After  having  passed  a  day  or  two  longer  with  Virieu  in 
our  hotel,  I  went  to  live  with  M.  de  la  Chavanne.  It  was 
only  a  few  doors  off.  I  used  to  part  with  Virieu  at  night, 
sure  to  meet  him  early  the  next  day ;  so  that  he  became 
reconciled  to  our  short  separation.  M.  de  la  Chavanne 
was  not  at  home  when  I  arrived  at  his  house.  I  was  re- 
ceived by  his  old  Neapolitan  cook,  and  by  that  charming 
child,  Graziella.^  She  opened  the  door  of  the  little  room 
assigned    to    me,    undid    my    portmanteau,    and    placed    my 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  287 

things  in  the  drawers,  even  kneeling  down  to  take  the 
creases  out  of  my  clothes.  Every  movement  of  hers  was 
full  of  grace  ;  only  she  seemed  to  me  more  shy  and  pale 
than  the  day  I  had  seen  her  at  breakfast,  I  scarcely 
dared  raise  my  eyes  to  look  at  her,  and  felt  distressed  at 
her  waiting  upon  me  in  this  manner ;  but  we  scarcely  ex- 
changed two  words.  I  felt  as  if  she  were  one  of  my 
sisters,  who  had  come  as  usual  to  do  little  things  for  me 
on  my  return  from  a  long  journey.  The  simplicity  of  her 
manner  and  dress  added  to  my  illusion. 

After  settling  me  in  my  room,  we  went  back  to  the 
drawing-room,  where  she  took  up  her  work,  and  we  began 
to  talk  a  little.  Antoniella  came  in  from  the  large  work- 
room where  she  had  been  superintending  <(her  children," 
as  she  called  them  in  the  cigarette  factory.  Then  came  in 
the  master,  and  the  breakfast.  We  sat  down  to  it  as  be- 
fore. <(  Now  I  must  introduce  you  properly  to  one  another," 
exclaimed  M.  de  la  Chavanne,  gayly.  "This  one  is  An- 
toniella. She  is  a  good  child,  and  very  useful  to  me  in  the 
factory.  She  chooses,  admits,  or  sends  away  the  novices 
of  my  convent,  who  number  some  hundreds,  and  who  are 
employed  not  exactly  in  saying  their  prayers,  but  in  mak- 
ing cigars  and  cigarettes.  She  knows  all  the  poor  people 
and  lazzaroni  of  the  place,  and  finds  out  which  of  them 
have  too  many  children  to  support,  and  wish  to  get  work 
in  my  establishment.  She  manages  all  this  quite  admirably 
and  lives  with  me,  as  you  see,  like  my  daughter,  to  re- 
ceive and  transmit  my  orders.  Everybody  is  pleased  and 
satisfied  with  her  —  employers  and  employed.  My  little 
workwomen  are  like  her  own  sisters  or  children.  She 
watches  over  them  like  a  mother,  and  reports  to  their  fam- 
ilies if  there  be  any  cause  of  complaint  in  the  workrooms  ; 
and  so  she  helps  me  to  keep  perfect  order  and  peace  in  the 
establishment.  They  call  her  in  Naples  *  la  madre  delle 
cigarette?*  At  these  words,  Antoniella  burst  out  laughing, 
and  M.  de  la  Chavanne,  glancing  at  her  with  his  kind,  pa- 
ternal face,  smiled  also.  (<  Now,"  he  continued,  <(as  for 
this  little  girl  "  (pointing  to  Graziella,  who  colored  up  to 
the  eyes),  <(  who  is  still  a  child,  Antoniella  is  teaching  her 
French,  that  she  may  be  some  day   my  interpreter  between 


iSS  LAMARTINE 

the  administration  and  the  directors,  who  are  our  country- 
men. She  is  called  Graziella,  and  is  the  daughter  of  a  poor 
fisherman  in  the  island  of  Procida,  who  has  a  whole  tribe 
of  children.  She  only  receives  the  pay  of  a  cigar  workwoman, 
but  she  transmits  it  regularly,  at  the  end  of  the  month,  to 
her  mother,  La  Procitana.  She  does  not,  however,  work 
with  the  rest  but  lives  with  us,  so  as  to  be  under  the  im- 
mediate care  of  Antoniella,  who  is  her  friend  and  protec- 
tress. She  superintends  the  house  under  her  directions,  and 
transmits  my  orders  to  the  servants,  who  are  Neapolitans, 
and  whose  patois  she  alone  understands.  She  is  still  a 
child,  as  you  see;  but  a  good  child,  and  beloved  by  everybody. 
I  treat  her  more  as  a  father  than  as  a  master.  She  orders 
everything  here,  and  is  our  aide-de-camp,  or  rather  our 
mouthpiece.  Ask  for  whatever  you  wish.  She  is  at  your 
orders;  only  do  not  look  at  her  dress,  which  is  that  of  the 
children  of  Procitana,  of  the  peasantry  of  an  island  from 
whence  Naples  obtains  her  most  beautiful  and  her  most  use- 
ful servants.  Their  costume  is,  in  fact,  a  mark  of  servi- 
tude in  Naples,  but  of  nobility  in  their  own  island.  Go  and 
dress  yourself  as  a  Procitana, *  he  added,  turning  to  Gra- 
ziella;  <(  Antoniella  will  help  you.8 

The  shy  and  beautiful  child  went  out  with  Antoniella, 
and  returned  in  a  few  moments  entirely  transformed.  It 
was  like  a  scene  in  a  play.  On  her  feet  she  had  little  yel- 
low slippers  without  heels,  of  which  the  leather  was  finely 
embroidered  in  red  and  silver ;  her  blue  stockings  seemed 
not  to  be  knitted,  but  wove  in  some  kind  of  bright  stuff.  A 
woolen  petticoat,  with  a  multitude  of  fine  plaited  folds,  and 
of  a  dark  yet  bright  brown  shade,  fell  to  her  feet ;  a  bod- 
ice of  green  velvet  cut  square,  and  made  into  a  point  be- 
fore and  behind,  revealed  her  neck  and  bosom,  both  of 
which  were  modestly  covered  by  a  chemisette  of  fine  lace  and 
embroidery,  closely  buttoned  down  the  front.  The  sleeves 
and  waistband  were  trimmed  with  rich  braiding  and  em- 
broidery, and  are  alike  for  rich  and  poor.  The  head-dress, 
except  on  a  journey,  consisted  of  nothing  but  a  profusion 
of  raven  black  hair,  rolled  in  a  thick  cable  round  the  head, 
like  a  living  turban.  Her  throat  and  ears  were  ornamented 
with  a    beautiful   necklace   and   ear-rings   of  ancient   Greek 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  289 

workmanship,  and  of  very  fine  gold,  the  pendants  of  which 
clicked  like  the  little  bells  of  a  horse  in  a  circus.  The 
blushing  face  of  the  child  revealed  a  mixture  of  shame  and 
bashfulness,  partly  with  the  consciousness  of  her  own  beauty, 
and  partly  with  the  sense  of  our  appreciation  of  it.  We 
looked  at  her  with  mute  admiration  ;  and  had  she  been  less 
of  a  child,  I  should  not  have  dared  to  lift  my  eyes.  In  a 
few  seconds  she  disappeared,  and  ran  off  to  put  on  her 
every-day  dress.  But  the  effect  had  been  produced  and  the 
blow  struck.  I  could  not  forget  it,  and  henceforth  never 
saw  her  in  her  ordinary  costume  without  recalling  the  Pro- 
citana,  and  looking  upon  her  merely  as  a  shadow  of  her 
real  self.  The  dress  she  generally  wore  was  only  a  com- 
mon, coarse,  brown  stuff,  fastened  close  round  her  throat, 
without  any  ornament  whatever,  and  a  simple  blue  handker- 
chief tied  round  her  neck.  Pier  beautiful  little  feet  were  dis- 
guised in  untidy,  heavy,  black  shoes,  generally  down  at  the 
heel.  Such  was  the  chrysalis  —  but  what  about  the  butterfly? 
Virieu  came  to  see  me  in  the  course  of  the  day.  His 
father,  as  I  before  said,  had  commanded  the  cavalry  at  the 
siege  of  Lyons.  M.  de  la  Chavanne  had  followed  him  in 
his  last  charge,  and  had  been  all  but  a  witness  of  his 
death.  They  talked  a  long  time  of  this  fatal  day.  Virieu 
dined  with  us,  and  was  as  much  struck  as  myself  with  the 
marvelous  Grecian  beauty  of  la  Procitana.  That  evening 
Virieu  and  I  went  out  together,  and  I  accompanied  him  to 
his  hotel.  In  passing  the  Via  di  Toledo  we  went  in,  from 
curiosity,  to  the  Palazzo  Fiorentino,  opposite  the  theatre. 
This  was  the  public  gambling  house,  permitted  but  super- 
intended by  the  police.  Immense  tables,  surrounded  with 
silent  players,  filled  the  rooms  :  great  heaps  of  gold  and 
silver  were  piled  on  the  green  table  by  the  side  of  each 
player.  We  were  soon  drawn  in  to  join  the  game,  risked 
some  scudi  and  lost.  That  evening,  and  the  next,  and  the 
day  after,  we  did  the  same.  We  could  not  understand 
why  the  luck  was  always  against  us.  While  we  were 
grumbling  about  it  in  the  recess  of  one  of  the  windows, 
an  old  Neapolitan  came  up  to  us,  and  told  us,  that  as  long 
as  we  played  in  that  way,  without  sense  or  plan,  we  MUST 
lose ;  that  this  game  was  not  one  of  chance,  but  of  skill 
19 


290  LAMARTINE 

and  science ;  that  we  were  not  to  expect  large  gains  but 
moderate  profits  ;  that  he  himself  had  once  been  a  victim 
like  ourselves  ;  but  that  he  now  lived  on  what  had  form- 
erly been  his  ruin.  We  listened  to  him  with  astonishment. 
He  saw  it,  and  lowering  his  voice,  proposed  to  give  us 
lessons  at  hazard,  having  been  himself  a  croupier  of  a 
gambling  table,  and  having  masses  of  cards  with  which  he 
could  prove  his  theory  to  our  satisfaction.  With  the  igno- 
rant and  self-confident  folly  of  youth,  we  accepted  his  invi- 
tation, and  made  an  appointment  with  him  the  following 
evening  in  Virieu's  rooms.  The  old  man  was  punctual,  and 
having  thrown  on  the  table  a  mass  of  cards,  that  is,  ten 
or  twelve  packs,  the  game  began. 

<c  Play  as  you  will,  gentlemen,  *  he  said  quietly,  "and  I 
will  bet  you  anything  you  like  that,  by  the  end  of  the 
evening,  I  shall  have  gained  and  you  will  have  lost."  He 
threw  down  the  cards,  we  played  and  lost,  his  gains  were 
very  small,  but  he  always  won. 

We  tried  twenty  times  and  always  with  the  same  result. 
We  were  confounded,  <(  Why  then  are  you  not  yourself 
rich  ?  *  I  asked  him  at  last.  a  Because  riches  are  not  the 
result  of  even  successful  gambling,  but  of  honest  labor,® 
he  replied.  *  I  never  promised  that  I  should  show  you 
how  to  get  millions,  but  small  sums.  Will  you  try 
again?"  "Yes,"  we  answered.  "Well,  I  am  now  going 
to  show  you  my  system,  and  explain  on  what  it  is  based. 
Now  listen  to  me.  What  is  trenta  e  quaranta  f  A  game 
in  which  the  player,  playing  against  the  bank,  gains  every 
time  that  the  color  black  or  red,  on  which  he  has  betted, 
approaches  nearest  to  the  number  forty,  without  going 
beyond  it,  for,  if  it  goes  beyond,  the  player  is  dead.  He 
must,  therefore,  calculate,  as  nearly  as  he  can,  which  is 
the  color,  whether  black  or  red,  which  offers  the  best 
chance  of  arriving  at  the  winning  number,  and  conform  his 
play  to  that.  Understand,  once  for  all,  there  is  in  reality 
no  luck  in  it,  only  skill  and   memory." 

The  old  croupier,  without  giving  us  more  of  his  practice 
and  experience,  played  for  another  hour,  and  following  out 
the  calculations  he  had  suggested  to  us,  went  on  winning, 
while  we,  trusting  to  luck,  always  lost 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  291 

He  promised  to  return  at  the  same  hour  on  the  following 
day.  I  was  anxious  to  find  out  if  it  would  always  come  to 
the  same  in  the  long  run  ;  and  if  he  could  always  reckon 
on  small  but  certain  sums.  The  next  day,  and  for  twenty 
days  running,  we  were  confirmed  in  this  belief ;  he  steadily 
won  so  many  scudi  a  night,  and  we  lost  as  many  Napo- 
leons. It  was  becoming  serious,  and  I  asked  myself : 
<(  But  what  is  the  cause  ?  for,  after  all,  chance  is  but  an 
effect  of  which  we  do  not  see  the  reason ;  let  us  go  on  and 
try  to  find  it  out.B 

All  the  winter  the  croupier  came,  and  we  devoted  our 
evenings  to  him,  either  at  Virieu's  hotel  or  at  M.  de  la 
Chavanne's.  One  saw  nothing  but  cards.  One  heard  noth- 
ing but  trenta  e  quaranta.  M.  de  la  Chavanne's  French 
friends  came  and  chatted  round  the  braziers,  in  which  the 
olive  wood  chips  burned  without  smoke  or  flame.  Antoniella 
and  Graziella  worked  on  the  sofa  in  the  corner  of  the  room. 
From  time  to  time  Graziella  would  look  up  at  me  and  try 
to  smile ;  but  then  her  face  would  suddenly  become  grave, 
as  if  she  said,  <(  What  a  pity  that  so  sensible  a  young  man 
should  have  a  taste  for  gambling ! B 

But  the  croupier  cut  his  cards  perseveringly,  and  we 
could  discover  nothing  except  the  fact  that  he  regularly 
pocketed  our  carlini. 

In  this  way  our  Naples  winter  passed  until  the  beautiful 
early  spring  lit  up  the  waves  and  mountains  of  Castela- 
mare.  Vesuvius  began  to  grumble  and  launch  out  angry 
puffs  of  smoke  and  flame,  from  time  to  time.  Virieu  was 
ill,  and  did  not  leave  his  room.  I  had  met  on  the  staircase 
of  his  hotel  one  day,  M.  Humboldt,  the  diplomatist,  whom 
we  had  left  at  Rome.  He  received  me  like  a  son,  and  pro- 
posed to  carry  me  off  with  him  on  a  tour  he  was  about  to 
make  in  Calabria,  after  he  had  studied  the  volcano  of 
which  the  threatened  eruption  had  become  more  serious.  I 
accepted  his  offer  with  joy  ;  and  yet  I  was  sad  at  leaving 
Graziella  when  I  thought  of  her.  But  as  yet  we  had  come 
to  no  explanation. 

M.  de  Humboldt  came  to  fetch  me  at  M.  de  Chavanne's. 
At  the  moment  of  getting  into  his  carriage  he  asked  me : 
<(Who   was    that  beautiful    child?"    and    I,    looking   up   at 


292  LAMARTINE 

Graziella,  saw  that  her  eyes  were  tull  of  tears.  Why  did 
she  cry  ;  and  why  did  she  follow  the  carriage  with  her  eyes 
till  we  were  out  of  sight? 

The  horses  rapidly  took  us  on  the  road  to  Pompeii  and 
Torre  dell'  Annunziata.  a  pretty  village  which  you  come  to 
before  arriving  at  Castelamare,  and  which  is  built  at  the  foot 
of  the  mountain.  We  put  up  at  a  little  inn  still  nearer  to 
Vesuvius,  and  sent  for  guides  and  mules  to  conduct  us  to 
the  hermit  whose  cell  was  built  on  the  highest  habitable 
cone.  After  two  or  three  hours  of  fatiguing  march,  either 
upon  cooling  and  slippery  lava,  or  on  hot  ashes,  of  which 
the  smoke  nearly  blinded  one,  we  stopped  on  one  of  the 
lower  spurs  of  the  mountain.  On  turning  round  we  felt 
as  if  we  were  floating  in  the  sky  :  the  sea,  the  islands,  the 
capes,  and  Naples,  all  seemed  to  spring  out  of  the  earth  at 
our  feet.  We  could  not  resist  an  exclamation  of  pleasure. 
At  last  we  reached  the  hermitage  ;  the  hermit  had  ceased 
to  sleep  there  at  night,  fearing  to  be  surprised  in  sleep  by 
a  sudden  outburst  of  the  volcano.  We  sat  down  on  the 
bench  at  his  door,  gazing  at  the  wonderful  scene  beneath 
us,  which  the  ether  seemed  to  have  evoked  from  the  void 
below.  At  last  the  hermit  himself  arrived  on  his  donkey, 
which  carried  besides  a  quantity  of  flasks  of  Lacryma 
Christi ;  the  hermit  having  catered  for  his  guest  as  well  as 
himself,  and  making  us  pay  largely  for  the  luxury.  He 
was,  however,  a  thoroughly  good  fellow,  not  belonging  to 
any  regular  religious  order,  but  one  of  those  ambulatory 
friars  who  attach  themselves  to  certain  localities  from  whence 
they  draw  their  means  of  subsistence.  I  should  say  that 
this  monk  was  of  the  <(  Order  of  Vesuvius,  *  and  nothing 
else.  He  changed  his  cell  according  as  the  eruption  changed 
its  course.  The  rest  of  the  time  he  entertained  travelers  ; 
his  cell  was  a  picturesque  and  sacred  house  of  refreshment. 

M.  de  Humboldt  and  I  sat  down  on  each  side  of  his  little 
table,  and  talked  to  him  about  the  mountain  and  the  gen- 
eral prelude  to  the  eruptions.  I  resolved  next  day  to  study 
it  nearer  by  descending  the  crater.  It  was  of  no  sort  of 
use  my  doing  so,  for  I  was  neither  a  savant,  nor  a  natu- 
ralist. I  did  not  even  know  the  names  of  the  scientific 
specimens  which  I  proposed  to  bring  back  with  me  ;   but  I 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  293 

was  just  at  the  age  when  cne  wishes  to  be  thought  rather 
foolhardy,  let  it  cost  what  it  might ;  somewhat  of  the  race 
of  Empedocles,  who  left  his  saudals  on  the  borders  of  Etna. 
I  induced  two  of  our  guides  to  return  to  Torre  dell"  An- 
nunziata  to  fetch  the  cords  necessary  for  the  perilous  de- 
scent of  the  crater.  M.  de  Humboldt  laughed  at  my 
preparations,  and  endeavored  to  dissuade  me  from  so  rash 
an  act  without  any  possible  object.  But  I  was  only  the 
more  strengthened  in  my  pride  and  folly,  and  woke  the 
next  morning  as  determined  as  ever  to  carry  out    my  plan. 

Vesuvius  had  been  silent  through  the  night.  The  sun- 
rise was  magnificent ;  one  saw  nothing  but  a  puff  of  yellow 
smoke  belching  forth  at  intervals  from  the  pointed  cone 
above  our  heads. 

We  started  early,  following  our  guides,  who  had  brought 
the  cords,  which  I  had  ordered  during  the  night.  It  was 
no  longer  walking  but  scrambling.  Several  times  we  heard 
the  stones  and  ashes  falling  round  us,  causing  a  sulphurous 
smoke  which  blinded  us  for  a  few  moments  until  dispersed 
by  the  soft  morning  air.  It  would  seem  as  if  the  spirits  of 
this  infernal  region  disputed  every  step  with  the  human 
beings  who  ventured  into  their  precincts.  We  often  had 
to  throw  ourselves  flat  on  the  earth  to  avoid  the  rebound 
of  the  stones  and  pieces  of  rock  as  they  fell ;  and  only 
when  the  eruption  ceased  for  a  few  moments,  could  we  con- 
tinue our  route. 

At  last,  we  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  crater  and  sat 
down  on  the  edge,  measuring  with  our  eyes,  as  far  as  we 
could,  the  frightful  gulf,  half  in  shade  and  half  in  lurid 
light,  which  yawned  beneath  our  feet.  It  was  the  shape  of 
an  enormous  funnel  of  which  the  base  and  the  sides  were 
colored,  to  windward,  by  the  various  streams  of  lava  which 
recent  eruptions  had  deposited  on  their  course.  On  one  side 
appeared  a  kind  of  crystallized  salt,  white  as  newly  fallen 
snow  ;  on  another,  fragments  of  sulphur  as  yellow  as  gold 
in  the  crucible.  Farther  on,  the  sides  of  the  crater  had 
taken  the  form  of  pointed,  jagged,  and  still  smoking  rocks, 
with  here  and  there  bright  stalactites  which  seemed  to  have 
frozen  as  they  fell.  One  portion  of  this  vast  basin  seemed 
filled  with  a  brownish  substance  of   which  I  did   not  know 


294  LAMARTINE 

the  name.  But,  toward  the  middle  of  the  crater,  masses 
of  smoke  belched  forth,  from  the  midst  of  which  poured 
out  at  intervals  rivers  of  flame  lighting  up  the  depths  of 
this  abyss  of  wonder  and  of  terror,  which  might  well  have 
served  for  a  picture  of  the  infernal  regions.  My  guides 
sat  down  with  their  cords  and  said,  "What  is  the  use  of 
tempting  Providence  ?  How  much  more  will  you  see  if  you 
do  attempt  the  descent  ?  *  <(  I  should  actually  have  touched 
it,8  I  replied.  And  rising  from  the  hot  sand  on  which  I 
was  sitting,  I  passed  my  arms  through  the  knots  of  the 
cords,  and  prepared  slowly  to  descend  into  the  crater.  Not 
one  of  the  guides  would  consent  to  follow  me  ;  but  they  all 
hung  on  to  the  mouth  of  the  basin,  striving  to  direct  my 
perilous  course,  and  to  induce  me  to  return.  I  reached  the 
flat  brown  surface  I  have  before  described  in  a  few  minutes ; 
but  the  heat  increasing  in  intensity  as  I  neared  the  burn- 
ing furnace  in  the  centre,  my  shoes  were  at  once  almost 
burned  off,  and  scarcely  any  sole  remained  to  preserve  my  feet. 
I  strove  to  stand  on  such  portions  of  the  sulphur  as  had 
cooled  a  little,  and  springing  across  one  of  the  rushing  tor- 
rents of  liquid  fire,  tried  to  rest  for  a  moment  on  a  less 
burning  crust.  I  felt  I  was  lost  if  the  wind,  changing  for 
an  instant,  had  driven  back  upon  me  the  sulphurous  flame 
and  smoke,  which  fortunately  it  drove,  at  present,  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  crater.  My  guides  called  louder  to  me 
than  ever  to  retrace  my  steps  while  there  was  yet  time.  I 
hastily  knotted  together  in  my  handkerchief  some  speci- 
mens of  the  burning  metals  around  me,  and  at  last  gave 
the  signal  to  be  drawn  up  again  from  this  very  hell  upon 
earth.  My  ascent  was  accomplished  in  perfect  safety,  only 
my  clothes  and  shoes  were  burned  to  rags.  They  hailed  my 
return  to  terra  firma  with  cries  of  joy,  while  M.  Humboldt 
hastened  to  explain  to  me  the  names  and  characters  of  the 
specimens  which  I  had  brought  up  from  the  abyss.  We 
went  back  to  the  hermit's  cell,  who  could  not  recover  his 
astonishment  at  my  foolhardiness ;  and  a  good  breakfast, 
with  the  help  of  the  L,acryma  Christi,  made  every  one  for- 
get my  folly. 

That  evening  I  would    have    given   all  the  world  to  have 
had  no  part  in    this  ridiculous  adventure.     If  I  had  under- 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  295 

taken  it  as  a  man  of  science,  to  wrest  some  hitherto  unknown 
secret  from  nature,  it  might  have  been  sublime  ;  but  under- 
taken by  an  ignoramus  like  myself,  the  attempt  was  simply 
ridiculous.  My  vanity  met  with  its  due  punishment ;  I  had 
been  egregiously  vain  —  that  was  all ;  but  I  reaped  what  I 
deserved  —  that  most  bitter  feeling  of  a  thorough  contempt  \ 
of  one's  self.  1/ 

After  our  breakfast  at  the  Hermit's  we  returned  to  Torre 
dell'  Annunziata.  The  noise  in  the  mountain  seemed  to 
increase  in  proportion  as  we  went  farther  from  it :  the  earth 
shook  under  our  mules'  feet.  All  the  village  had  turned 
out.  Every  one,  in  mute  despair,  lifted  their  eyes  and  arms 
to  heaven,  and  rushed  from  their  houses  to  see  which  side 
of  the  cone  of  the  crater  would  open  out  first  and  over- 
whelm with  its  burning  stream  of  lava,  the  crops  and  the 
vineyards  on  which  their  whole  existence  depended.  Every 
saint  in  the  calendar  was  invoked  in  vain  by  these  poor 
people.  All  of  a  sudden,  at  nightfall,  a  mighty  cry  burst 
forth  —  the  problem  had  been  solved.  A  great  breach  had 
been  made  in  the  cone  to  the  south,  and  streams  of  liquid 
fire  were  pouring  down  the  sides  of  the  mountain  with  re- 
sistless speed.  What  direction  would  the  eruption  take 
during  the  night  ?  That  was  the  anxious  question.  We 
got  back  to  our  little  inn  and  supped,  passing  the  greater 
part  of  the  night  at  our  windows  watching  the  progress  of 
this  terrible  devastation. 

As  soon  as  it  was  light,  we  ran,  like  every  one  else,  out 
of  the  house  to  the  base  of  the  mountain.  The  heavy  tor- 
rent of  lava  had  made  fearful  progress  during  the  night, 
and  had  already  reached  not  only  the  vineyards,  but  the 
gardens  and  houses  in  the  upper  part  of  the  village  of 
VAnnunziata.  Some  of  these  cottages,  perched  on  a  little 
rising  ground  to  the  left,  were  already  entirely  encircled  by 
the  fire.  The  poor  inhabitants  were  flying  from  their 
homes,  with  cries  and  tears,  carrying  with  them  whatever 
they  could  most  easily  save  from  the  flames.  It  was  a  heart- 
breaking sight.  Men  were  dragging  great  sacks  of  wheat, 
or  bundles  of  Indian  corn  ;  women,  their  cradles  full  of 
children,  on  their  shoulders.  The  animals  followed,  driven 
by  the  boys,  and  trembling  with  fear  ;   the    very  cocks  and 


296  LAMARTINE 

hens,  with  half-burned  wings,  were  fluttering  and  striving 
to  hide  themselves  amidst  the  vines.  It  was  exactly  such 
a  scene  as  Pliny  describes  at  the  overthrow  of  Pompeii. 
As  the  lava  slowly  but  surely  encircled  its  prey,  you  saw 
the  green  vine  leaves  shrivel  up,  crackle  and  groan,  almost 
like  living  human  beings  ;  and  then  the  branches,  despoiled 
of  their  now  yellow  leaves,  in  their  turn  becoming  crisp, 
taking  fire,  and  spreading  the  destructive  element  along  the 
ground,  which  had  become  as  a  furnace.  These  agonies  of 
nature  were  slowly  repeated,  till  each  vine  had  fallen  a 
victim  to  the  destroying  element.  For  me  the  sight  had  a 
sort  of  fascination,  and  I  forgot  that  I  ran  a  like  danger 
myself.  We  had  certainly  legs  wherewith  to  fly ;  but  if  for 
a  moment  we  were  to  forget,  or  that  the  wind  had  changed 
its  quarter,  the  same  burning  breath  would  have  devoured 
us  like  the  shrubs,  and  our  calcined  bones  would  have 
crackled  as  rapidly  as  the  vine  branches.  I  did  forget  it 
several  times,  and  drawing  nearer  to  this  bed  of  fire,  the 
very  stick  I  held  in  my  hand  was  shriveled  up  in  a  mo- 
ment. We  suddenly  saw,  from  the  lay  of  the  ground,  that 
the  flames  had  changed  their  course,  and  that  we  were  in 
imminent  danger  of  being  encircled  by  them,  unless  we 
rapidly  returned  to  the  shelter  of  the  town.  At  last,  the 
lava  torrent  chose  for  its  bed  a  narrow  valley  which  led  to 
the  sea,  crossing  the  high-road  to  Naples,  along  which  both 
horses  and  foot  passengers  were  flying  at  full  speed.  But 
anxious  to  study  this  phenomenon  to  the  end,  which  had 
been  the  object  of  M.  de  Humboldt's  visit,  we  remained  on 
that  part  of  the  road  which  led  to  Castelamare  and 
Salerno,  till  the  eruption  had  ceased.  The  only  sights  and 
sounds  which  met  our  eyes  the  following  day,  however, 
were  the  tears  and  lamentations  of  the  poor  ruined  inhab- 
itants. After  witnessing  this  terrible  calamity,  M.  de  Hum- 
boldt returned  to  Naples,  and  I  started  alone  for  Castelamare. 

After  having  driven  through  the  picturesque  forest  of 
laurels  which  surround  the  beautiful  villas  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Naples,  I  went  to  Sorrento,  which  gleamed  on  the 
horizon  before  me  like  a  dream  of  Tasso's. 

After  some  days  spent  in  making  expeditions  from  this 
lovely  place,  I  hired,  sometimes   a   corricolo,  and   sometimes 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  297 

a  boat,   to  visit  the  Temple  of    Psestum   and   La    Cava,  the 

«...  .  ■>«•***/*>■> 

most  beautiful  spot  along  the  whole  coast.     After  spending 

about  a  fortnight  in  these  solitary  excursions,  I  found 
that  the  high-road  between  Torre  dell'  Annunziata  and 
Naples  was  again  opened,  a  certain  quantity  of  earth  hav- 
ing been  thrown  upon  the  lava  bed ;  so  that  I  took  a  little 
carriage,  and  returned  to  Naples.  My  heart  was  still  full 
of  Graziella.  I  felt  that  all  the  emotions  of  which  I  could 
neither  speak  nor  write  would  be  shared  in  and  sympathized 
with  by  that  delicious  child. 

On  going  up-stairs  at  St.  Pietro  Martyro,  I  was  startled 
at  not  hearing  her  bright  voice  as  usual  at  the  end  of  the 
gallery.  Everything  in  the  old  convent  seemed  to  be  as 
still  as  death.  M.  de  la  Chavanne  was  in  his  counting- 
house.  Antoniella  was  superintending  the  cigar-makers. 
My  room  was  shut  up.  The  only  person  I  could  find  was 
the  cook,  who  exclaimed,  "  Ah  !  you  will  no  longer  find 
Mile.  Graziella.  She  is  gone  back  to  the  islands  to  her 
parents.  No  one  has  had  any  tidings  of  her  since.  We 
suppose  she  was  taken  to  her  grandmother's  house  at 
Ischia,  from  whence  she  will  not  come  back  till  after  the 
summer.  Oh  !  by  the  bye,  she  left  a  little  note  for  you, 
which  she  told  me  to  give  you  on  your  return.    Here  it  is.B 

I  took  the  note,  which  was  written,  or   rather   scribbled,   ., 
in    Neapolitan   patois,  as    follows  :    Gia    che  set  partito,  non    \ 
posser  pih  restar.     Non  ti  rivedro  mai.     La  damizella  ( ((  From 
the  moment  you  left,  I  felt  I  could  no  longer  stay.     I  shall 
never  see  you  again  ! B )     Two  or  three  great  tears  had  left  , 
their  blots  on  the  coarse  yellow  paper. 

This  note  explained  to  me  that  which  her  eyes  at  part- 
ing had  only  partially  revealed.  I  went  into  my  room,  threw 
myself  on  the  bed,  and  burst  out  crying.  Virieu  came  up 
a  few  minutes  later,  to  know  if  I  was  returned.  He  found 
me  in  tears,  and  asked  in  utter  amazement,  what  was  the 
matter.  Without  speaking,  I  showed  him  the  poor  little 
note.  <<Oh,)>  he  exclaimed,  "why,  here's  the  beginning  of 
a  beautiful  romance  !  You  must  go  on  with  it.  What  a 
good  thing;  for  I  was  bored  to  death  ! *  "Don't  joke 
about  such  matters, M  I  replied.  "Tears  at  her  age  are 
serious. w 


298  LAMARTINE 

I  waited  till  Antoniella  came  in,  and  asked  her  directly 
where  her  little  friend  was  gone.  <(I  do  not  know,"  she 
replied.  (<  I  went  to  ask  her  father  on  the  quay  of  Pausi- 
lippo.  There  was  no  one  there.  The  neighbors  told  me 
that  he  had  left  off  coming  to  Naples,  and  that  they  be- 
lieved Graziella  was  gone  back  to  her  grandmother's  house 
at  Procida.  Since  you  went  off  with  that  clever  German, 
she  never  spoke  or  told  me  any  of  her  little  secrets ;  only 
I  remarked  that  she  was  often  crying.  * 

When  M.  de  Chavanne  came  in  from  his  counting-house, 
I  asked  him  the  same  question.  "Well,"  he  answered, 
laughing ;  <c  it  appears  that  you  are  at  the  bottom  of  the 
despair  and  the  flight  of  poor  little  Graziella.  We  have 
tried  in  vain  to  find  her  out,  and  can  only  conjecture  that 
to  escape  a  sorrow  which  she  could  not  conquer,  she  is 
gone  back  to  her  old  grandmother  at  Procida.  Her  good 
common  sense  will  soon  make  her  see  the  folly  of  all  this, 
and  if  you  wish  to  meet  her  again,  you  may  be  sure  to  do 
so  in  the  autumn." 

I  was  destined  to  see  her  long  before  that.  I  knew 
where  to  find  her,  and  I  felt  that  she  had  left  her  com- 
fortable position  at  M.  de  Chavanne's  for  no  other  earthly 
reason  than  disgust  at  my  going  off  with  M.  de  Humboldt. 
I  knew  that  she  loved  me,  and  that  her  flight  was  nothing 
but  a  wild  declaration  of  love.  I  was  torn  with  grief.  I 
felt  I  could  not  remain  away  from  her  any  longer.  I  have 
described  in  my  novel,  how  I  rejoined  her  at  Procida. 
The  little  details  which  I  have  now  given  to  my  readers, 
form  the  only  difference  between  the  fiction  and  the  reality. 
It  cost  my  pride  too  much  to  own  that  my  first  deep  love 
had  only  a  cigarette  maker  for  its  object,  instead  of  a 
coral  worker,  as  she  became  later.  Where  will  not  vanity 
find  a  peg  on  which  to  hang  itself? 

After  this  confession,  I  have  nothing  to  add,  but  that 
the  rest  of  the  story  is  literally  true.  Graziella  was  as 
young,  as  naive,  as  pure,  as  religious  as  I  represented  her 
in  my  novel.  All  the  scenes  therein  described  are  drawn 
from  life.  The  scene  and  the  actors  are  simple  daguerreo- 
types. The  trade  of  the  child  was  less  vulgar  in  the 
novel,  but  that  is  all.    Our  voyage  to  Procida,  and  the  pur- 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  299 

chase  of  the  new  boat  as  a  present  to  the  family,  the  joy 
of  the  grandmother  at  its  reception,  the  exclamations  of 
delight  from  the  children,  all  this  is  not  invented  but 
simply  related.  So  it  is  with  our  life  in  the  island,  and 
our  mingled  feelings  of  intense  joy  and  sorrow,  with  our 
nights  on  the  terrace  where  we  had  erected  a  tent,  and  our 
days  under  the  shade  of  the  vineyards  where  we  lived  the 
happy  and  simple  life  of  the  lazzaroni. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  month  of  May,  my  family  wrote 
to  Virieu  for  an  explanation  of  the  suspicious  life  I  was 
leading  at  La  Margellina.  M.  de  la  Chavanne  had  evi- 
dently written  to  warn  njy  mother.  Virieu,  in  his  warm 
friendship  for  me,  returned  posthaste  to  Naples,  and 
dragged  me  away  almost  by  main  force.  I  left  Graziella 
drowned  in  tears,  and  as  I  got  into  the  carriage  she 
fainted  away.  I  vowed  to  return  to  live  and  die  at 
Procida.  At  Milan  I  halted  for  a  few  days  after  Virieu 
had  gone,  being  resolved  to  try  the  rouge  et  noit  system 
which  he  and  I  had  so  conscientiously  studied  at  Naples 
with  the  old  croupier.  I  faithfully  promised  Virieu  not  to 
retrace  my  steps  to  Naples  till  I  had  seen  my  family,  but 
to  rejoin  them  in  a  fortnight  at  Milly. 

Milan  had  a  gambling  table  which  opened  daily  at  the 
theatre  of  La  Scala.  It  was  there  that  I  determined 
to  try  my  luck.  I  was  extraordinarily  successful.  I  re- 
solved to  reduce  the  old  croupier's  theories  to  practice.  I 
thought,  without  always  arriving  at  making  the  number 
forty,  there  was  more  chance  with  a  good  many  low  cards 
than  with  five  or  six  higher  ones.  Experience  had  shown 
me  that  high  and  low  numbers  were  dealt  out,  as  it  were, 
in  sets  and  not  alternately.  I  therefore  concluded  that,  by 
watching  carefully  the  dealing  of  the  cards,  I  could  make 
pretty  sure  of  those  which  were  left.  I  followed  this 
method  steadily,   and  won  as  steadily  every  night. 

I  remained  a  fortnight  at  Milan,  and  then  started  for  Lyons 
with  a  Swiss  merchant  from  Lausanne  and  his  servant,  who 
took  immense  care  of  me  on  the  road,  and  insisted  on  my  stay- 
ing a  few  days  at  their  house,  when  we  reached  their  home. 

After  resting  two  or  three  days  at  Lausanne,  I  took  a 
little    carriage    and   came    back    to    Macon.     My  father  was 


3oo  LAMART1NE 

waiting  for  me,  and  received  me  with  the  greatest  affection, 
without  saying  a  word  of  my  follies.  I  felt  that  I  had  come 
back  pardoned,  and  that  few  sons  had  a  father  like  mine. 
Still  I  was  sad  as  death,  though  I  did  not  say  why.  My 
poor  mother  cried  for  joy  at  my  return,  after  so  long  an 
absence.  If  the  rest  of  the  family  were  displeased  with  me, 
they  took  care  to  conceal  it.  Everything  seemed  forgotten, 
except  in  my  own  heart  and  in  the  sick  heart  of  my  poor 
Graziella.  Alas  !  I  had  not  long  to  wait  for  news.  A 
traveler  passing  through  Macon  brought  me  the  tidings  of 
her  death,  together  with  her  letter  of  farewell.  Her  last 
thought  had  been  for  me. 

I  have  now  described  my  first  loves,  my  happiness  and 
my  misery,  and  my  first  journey  into  Italy.  Since  that 
time,  Italy  became  my  own  country,  or,  at  least,  the  coun- 
try of  my  affections.  But  my  life  was  about  to  change 
entirely.  We  were  in  the  year  18 12-13.  Bonaparte,  like 
a  man  chased  by  the  Furies,  had  returned  from  Moscow, 
where  he  never  should  have  gone,  while  the  other  half  of 
his  forces  were  engaged  in  Spain,  to  which  country  he 
had  no  right  to  pretend.  Of  seven  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  men  whom  he  had  had  under  arms,  only  a  few 
thousand  remained  this  side  of  the  Vistula.  But  in  the 
midst  of  his  reverses  he  was  grand.  He  never  despaired. 
He  gathered  together  the  fragments  of  his  glorious  army, 
and  with  three  hundred  thousand  men  was  fighting  a 
brilliant  campaign,  though  he  could  not  recover  the  lost 
ground. 

Austria  offered  him  peace  and  neutrality.  She  proposed 
certain  concessions  not  unacceptable  to  his  ambition,  or  to 
his  former  glory.  But  he  preferred  fighting  on  for 
shadows,  and  threw  the  fate  of  the  Empire  and  of  France 
on  one  die.  At  Leipsic  he  lost  all.  He  came  back  to 
Paris  without  an  army.  He  brought  but  his  genius,  his 
pride,  and  his  authority ;  in  some  eyes  he  became  a  hero 
once  more,  but  a  hero  of  adverse  fortune.  He  was 
compelled  to  lay  down  his  arms  and  the  Empire  at  Fon- 
tainebleau,  and  went  to  the  Isle  of  Elba  to  reflect  upon 
his  crime  toward  his  country.  It  was  the  beginning  of  the 
end.     St.   Helena  avenged  Paris  and  France. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  301 

I  had  a  great  friend,  who  was  an  old  emigre  ol  Conde's  army, 
living  in  the  mountains  of  the  Jura.  I  resolved  to  throw  my- 
self on  his  hospitality  for  a  few  weeks,  and  spend  a  little  time 
with  him  in  the  heart  of  the  Swiss  mountains,  from  whence  I 
could  easily  go  farther  if  the  state  of  things  became  worse. 

This  gentleman  who  was  a  good  deal  older  than  I,  was 
one  of  those  charming  people  who  suit  all  ages.  He  was 
a  Royalist,  but  not  a  very  keen  politician,  and  enjoyed  life 
as  he  found  it.  He  had  that  witty  and  keen  sense  of 
humor  which  rather  laughed,  at  enthusiasm  or  over-zeal, 
even  in  the  cause  of  the  King.  He  was  a  widower;  his 
beautiful  young  wife  was  from  Mdcon,  and  had  died  in  her 
first  confinement.  His  name  was  M.  de  Maizod.  His  lit- 
tie  chateau  was  onty  a  house  dignified  with  that  feudal  ti- 
tle, but  which  the  peasants  considered  as  belonging  to  the 
village.  His  nearest  neighbors  lived  at  the  little  town  of 
Moirans.  There  was  an  old  middle-class  family  in  Moirans, 
which  was  not  far  from  St.  Claude,  who  were  immensely 
looked  up  to  and  respected  in  the  country.  They  were 
called,  like  the  Scotch  clans,  the  Chaveriats.  Leonard 
Chaveriat,  who  belonged  to  every  one  of  note  in  Moirans, 
was  looked  upon  with  affectionate  admiration  by  the  whole 
population.  He  was,  in  fact,  all  powerful;  being  lawyer, 
sportsman,  fisherman,  and  one  who  could  turn  his  hand  to 
anything,  while  his  greatest  delight  was  to  be  of  use  to 
everybody.  He  was  a  Royalist  ;  but  his  opinions  were  sub- 
ordinate to  his  instincts. 

I  spent  a  month  in  this  quite  solitude  without  being  troubled 
by  the  convulsions  which  agitated  the  other  provinces. 

Chaveriat  told  me  one  day  that  war  had  been  declared, 
and  that  the  Emperor  had  ordered  that  all  the  young  men 
who  had  served  in  the  King's  household  should  be  compelled 
to  join  the  Imperial  army.  I  decided  instantly  on  my  course. 
<(  I  would  rathei  fly  or  die  than  fight  against  the  King!*  Chave- 
riat, offered  to  guide  me  to  the  Swiss  frontier.  I  accepted  his 
services.  We  parted  at  the  frontier  line.  I  cried  aloud  for 
joy  at  my  deliverance  and  walked  on  to  St.  Cergues,  and  found 
the  house  of  M.  Reboul.  He  was  a  noble  Swiss  who  had  re- 
ceived Madame  de  Stael,  Montmorency,  Benjamin  Constant, 
and  many  other  distinguished  persons  during  their  exile. 


3o2  LAMARTINE 

I  was  welcomed  by  a  young  lady  of  great  beauty,  in  the 
absence  of  M.  Reboul.  This  young  girl,  or  rather  this  an- 
gel, had  nothing  either  in  her  face  or  dress  like  any  woman 
I  had  ever  seen.  Her  voice  and  features  fascinated  me.  But 
her  face,  with  her  blue  eyes,  and  her  rose-leaf  complexion, 
had  a  mingled  expression  of  joy  and  sorrow,  which  struck 
me  the  moment  I  saw  her.  I  did  not  then  know  that  she 
had  only  lately  lost  her  mother,  and  that  time  had  not  yet 
effaced  the  traces  of  her  grief.  She  was  plaiting  a  large 
straw  hat  with  a  wide  border  to  defend  her  neck  from  the 
sun,  and  little  bits  of  straw  were  scattered  on  the  parquet 
floor  at  her  feet. 

She  offered  me  a  glass  of  wine  while  I  was  waiting  for 
her  father ;  and  we  began  to  enter  into  a  quiet  kind  of  con- 
versation. She,  with  that  calm  soft  voice,  which  thrilled  me 
through  and  through,  and  I,  with  a  totally  new  feeling 
which  made  my  words  tremble  on  my  lips.  I  had  a  letter 
of  recommendation  from  Leonard  for  her  father,  so  that  I  had 
no  alternative  but  to  await  his  return.  He  came  home  very 
late,  but  by  that  time  I  had  become  accustomed  to  my  hostess, 
and  it  was  Reboul  who  appeared  to   me  the   only  stranger. 

I  gave  him  Leonard's  letter.  He  read  it  carefully,  and 
then  said  we  would  speak  of  its  contents  on  the  morrow. 
He  told  his  charming  daughter  to  go  and  prepare  my  room 
for  me.  She  left  us  at  once,  but  my  thoughts  followed  her. 
I  do  not  know  how  it  was  that  recollections  of  Graziella 
mingled  with  this  new  vision.  I  could  not  tell  why  this  an- 
gelic apparition  gave  me  at  once  such  a  feeling  of  security 
and  such  an  inclination  to  cry. 

I  supped  afterward  with  Reboul ;  his  daughter  waited  on 
us.  Her  soft  and  holy  face  seemed  to  me  a  good  omen  on 
the  threshold  of  an  unknown  future. 

During  supper,  M.  Reboul  spoke  to  me  openly  of  his  adven- 
tures as  guide  to  the  many  hundred  proscribed  or  voluntary 
exiles  who  for  the  last  fifteen  years  he  had  concealed  and  con- 
veyed from  one  country  to  another.  He  began  by  Madame 
de  Stael,  whose  chateau  of  Coppet  was  not  far  from  St.  Cer- 
gues.  The  wish  he  felt  to  save  his  friends  had  insensibly  led 
him  to  make  a  habit  of  that  which  had  at  first  been  only 
the  impulse  of  his  kind  heart.      His   reputation  was  spread 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  303 

throughout  France  and  Switzerland,  and  he  had  always  been 
fortunate  in  his  ventures.  He  attributed  his  success  to  the 
protection  of  God,  which  the  prayers  of  his  saintly  wife  and 
child  had  obtained  for  him.  At  the  mention  of  his  wife  his 
eyes  filled  with  tears.  His  daughter  turned  her  face  away, 
and  covered  it  with  her  apron  to  hide  her  tears.  <(Do  not 
let  us  talk  of  this  any  more  to-night,  *  said  her  father.  <(  It 
is  time  to  go  to  bed.  You  will  stay  here  till  to-morrow,  *  he 
added,  turning  to  me,  (<  and  I  will  give  you  the  best 
advice  I  can  after  I  have  heard  your  story,  and  have  found 
out  what  I  can  do  for  you.  *  His  charming  daughter  helped 
the  servant  to  make  my  bed,  and  I  went  to  rest  to  dieam 
of  the  future.  But  the  face  of  the  Graziella  of  the  Alps 
prevented  my  sleeping  for  a  long  time. 

The  next  day,  at  day-break,  I  was  up  and  ready  to  ac- 
company her  father.  She  wished  me  good-by,  recommend- 
ing me  tenderly  to  God's  care.  (<  You  are  very  young, 8  she 
said,  (<  to  be  thus  thrown  by  yourself  into  an  unknown  fu- 
ture. Your  mother  must  have  many  anxieties  on  your  ac- 
count !  *  "Ah,*  I  replied,  <(  I  have  a  mother  and  sisters 
also,  who  pray  to  God  for  me.  They  are  younger,  but  not 
better  or  purer  than  you. w    She  wrung  my  hand,  and  we  parted. 

After  having  walked  for  some  time  on  the  brow  of  the 
mountain  which  the  dawn  had  hardly  yet  lighted,  I  sud- 
denly burst  into  a  cry  of  admiration.  The  whole  horizon 
of  Switzerland  seemed  to  me  to  be  emerging  from  the  morn- 
ing mist ;  it  was  like  a  second  creation.  At  our  feet  the 
Lake  Iceman  sparkled,  half  in  light  and  half  in  shadow. 
The  mountains  of  Meilleraie  and  the  rocky  Tooth  de  Jaman, 
so  wonderfully  described  by  J.  J.  Rousseau,  formed  the 
barrier  on  the  Italian  side.  The  Valais,  a  country  of  inno- 
cence and  of  shepherds,  seemed  nestled  in  a  little  hollow  to 
the  left.  Then  Vevay  and  the  Chateau  de  Chillon  shone 
like  fallen  stars  in  the  lake.  Never,  not  even  at  Naples, 
had  I  seen  so  wonderful  and  glorious  a  spectacle.  At  each 
rung  of  the  marvelous  ladder  of  terraces  which  we  began 
to  descend,  new  bays,  new  ports,  new  towns,  new  villas, 
new  gardens  opened  out  on  our  delighted  gaze.  It  seemed  V 
as  if  we  were  really  assisting  at  the  creation  of  a  new  / 
world.     After    we    had    walked    for    about     two    hours,    al- 


304  LAMARTINE 

ways  bearing  toward  the  left,  Reboul  suddenly  stopped  and 
showed  me  a  large  and  imposing  modern  castle,  which  rose 
like  a  fan  with  its  succession  of  terraces  above  the  village 
at  the  head  of  the  lake. 

■  Ivook !  *  he  said  to  me.  *  We  will  wish  one  another 
good-by  here.  That  is  the  Ch&teau  of  Vincy,  to  which  I 
have  led  you.  I  will  not  go  any  farther,  for  you  cannot 
lose  your  way.  This  castle,  which  is  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful on  the  borders  of  the  lake,  belongs  to  the  illustrious 
House  of  Vincy,  Lords  of  Berne  —  once  very  rich,  now 
ruined  by  the  vile  revolution  of  1799.  It  is  now  inhabited 
by  the  youngest  and  last  brother  of  those  who  commanded 
the  Swiss  troops  in  the  service  of  France,  and  of  whom  one 
or  two  passed  into  Holland.  Some  of  the  other  members  of 
the  family  are  married,  and  have  become  once  more  French 
proprietors.  Others  have  seen  long  service  in  the  house- 
hold of  the  King,  while  this  one  spends  his  winters  at  Ge- 
neva, and  his  summers  in  this  old  family  mansion.  He  is 
the  best  man  I  know  to  give  you  the  information  you  seek, 
and  to  put  you  in  the  way  of  obtaining  what  you  wish. 
He  has,  as  it  were,  the  kernel  of  a  little  French  army, 
composed  of  men  who  wish  to  fight  for  the  cause  of  the 
King  of  France  without  joining  themselves  to  strangers. 
He  is,  in  fact,  the  principal  Royalist  agent  for  the  French 
in  Switzerland.  Go  and  introduce  yourself  to  him  in  my 
name,  and  ask  him  to  look  at  your  papers.  They  will  tell 
him  all." 

I  thanked  Reboul,  sent  many  heartfelt  good  wishes  to 
his  daughter,  and  strolled  on  alone  for  the  ckdteau  of  M. 
de  Vine}'.  I  was  not  without  some  uneasiness  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  I  should  be  received,  for  I  had  only  this 
note  from  Reboul,  and  my  personal  appearance  was  certainly 
not  in  my  favor.  I  went  down  the  hill,  therefore,  rather 
reluctantly,  and  arrived,  almost  with  a  feeling  of  regret,  at 
the  iron  gates  which  led  to  the  castle. 

I  pushed  open  the  gate  for  myself.  One  felt,  by  the 
solitude  and  the  absence  of  any  porter  or  servant,  the  ruin 
which  had  fallen  on  this  noble  and  Royalist  house.  I 
walked  on  till  I  came  to  a  magnificent  flight  of  steps,  and 
was  admitted  by  a  servant,  who  took  in  my  card  to  M.  de 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  305 

Vincy.  He  was  a  wizened,  ill-dressed  little  man,  and  every- 
thing about  him  indicated  a  certain  degree  of  poverty.  He 
made  me  sit  down  in  his  own  room,  and  asked  me  to  what 
circumstance  he  was  indebted  for  the  honor  of  my  visit. 
I  presented  M.   Reboul's  note  in  answer. 

(( I  know  nothing, *  he  replied,  <(at  this  moment,  of  the 
state  of  affairs  in  France.  The  armies  gathered  against  the 
Emperor  are  composed  of  English,  Prussian,  Russian,  Aus- 
trian, and  Italian  troops.  There  are  no  Frenchmen,  I  fear, 
except  a  handful  gathered  together  by  the  Prince  de  Polig- 
nac  in  a  village  near  Neufchatel  called  l,a  Chaux-de-Fond. 
The  Abbe*  Lafond,  Malet's  only  accomplice,  is  at  the  head 
of  this  little  troop.  I  will  have  your  passport  visied  for 
Neufchatel. » 

I  thanked  him,  and  stood  aside  while  a  multitude  of 
people  and  farmers  came  to  transact  different  affairs  with 
him,  or  to  receive  his  orders.  The  same  servant  introduced 
them  one.  after  the  other.  I  saw  many  of  these  men  leave 
miserable  little  sums  in  copper  on  his  desk,  which  was 
evidently  their  rent,  and  which  he  counted  with  the  anxiety 
of  an  apparently  rich  man  who  did  not  know  where  to 
turn  for  the  necessary  expenditure  of  the  house.  Every- 
thing showed  the  pinching  of  penury  in  the  midst  of  ex- 
ternal opulence.  I  was  filled  with  pity  for  him  in  spite  of 
my  admiration  for  his  magnificent  home. 

When  the  farmers  had  finished  their  payments  M.  de 
Vincy  came  back  to  me  and  gave  me  my  passport  visied. 
I  wished  him  good-by,  feeling  more  and  more  for  his  un- 
happy position,  and  took  my  departure.  Scarcely  had  I 
taken  half  a  dozen  steps  toward  the  iron  grille  than  a  car- 
riage drove  up  and  stopped  at  the  steps.  Two  ladies  and 
a  little  child  got  out  of  it.  They  were  a  mother  and 
daughter,  and  a  pretty  boy  of  ten  or  twelve  years  old.  I 
glanced  at  them  and  raised  my  hat  as  they  stopped  for  an 
instant  on  the  lower  step  of  the  staircase,  where  M.  de 
Vincy  had  joined  them,  and  was  speaking  to  them  in  a 
low  voice.  During  this  conversation  I  had  turned  away 
and  had  just  reached  the  iron  gates  when  a  soft  voice  re- 
called me.  It  was  Madame  de  Vincy.  "Sir,"  she  exclaimed, 
(<be  so  kind  as  to  come  back.w 
20 


306  LAMARTINE 

I  did  so,  shyly  enough.  When  I  drew  near  them  she 
added,  <(  Sir,  forgive  me  for  having  called  you  back  with- 
out having  the  honor  of  knowing  you.  But  when  M.  de 
Vincy  told  me  the  object  of  your  visit,  I  feared  you  might 
not  have  dined,  and  as  we  are  just  going  to  sit  down  to 
dinner,  I  venture  to  ask  you  to  share  our  humble  repast. 
There  is  no  inn  in  this  village,  and  it  is  three  hours'  march 
from  here  to  Rolle.  Do  not  refuse  us  the  pleasure  of  be- 
ing your  hosts  to-day.® 

1  refused  on  the  plea  of  my  dress ;  but  they  insisted 
more  amiably  than  ever,  and  I  was  compelled  to  yield. 
The  dinner  was  served  immediately  ;  my  hostess  was  most 
indulgent  and  kind.  Madame  de  Vincy,  the  mother,  was 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  imposing  women  I  ever  saw. 
She  was  born  a  princess  of  some  sovereign  house  in  the 
Palatinate,  of  which  I  have  forgotten  the  name.  The 
Vincys  had  noble  birth  on  both  sides,  but  Madame  de 
Vincy  did  not  belie  her  origin.  Her  height,  which  was 
five  feet  and  seven  inches,  gave  her  the  majesty  of  a  god- 
dess without  taking  away  her  grace  as  a  mortal,  and  the 
blue  eyes  of  a  German  princess  impressed  a  certain  amount 
'  o*f  dignity  even  on  her  smile.  Her  face  alone  revealed  the 
goodness  of  her  heart  ;  the  sound  of  her  voice  spoke  to  the 
heart  even  before  it  charmed  the  ear,  Her  civility  was  in- 
deed true  Christian  courtesy.  Never  had  I  seen  so  re- 
markable a  face.  One  felt  that  she  was  a  mother,  and 
there  was  something  filial  in  the  emotion  with  which  her 
beauty  inspired  me. 

Her  daughter,  who  was  infinitely  less  beautiful  but  as 
good  and  sensible  as  her  mother,  was  gentle  and  sympathiz- 
ing in  manner ;  I  saw  that  her  soul  was  a  reflection  of  Ma- 
dame de  Vincy's,  and  that  she  was  a  shoot  of  the  same 
stem.  She  was  about  sixteen.  The  boy  of  twelve  had  a 
fine  German  countenance.  Madame  de  Vincy  had  two  other 
sons,  one  in  the  Dutch  service  and  one  in  the  household  of 
Louis  XVIII.,  who  had  followed  the  King  to  Ghent.  They 
were  fine  well-grown  lads ;  in  fact,  their  mother  was  made 
to  bring  forth  noble-looking  sons. 

Our  conversation  became  more  and  more  familiar.  We 
had  plenty  of  subjects  in  common  in  the  political  aspect  of 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  307 

the  times,  and  m  the  strangeness  of  my  own  position. 
They  insisted  on  hearing  my  history,  which  I  related  simply 
and  naturally.  I  saw  that  it  made  a  great  impression  on 
my  hostess,  and  that  the  father  and  son  were  of  the  same 
opinion.  The  dinner  over,  I  took  up  my  little  bundle,  and 
prepared  to  continue  my  journey.  "  But,  sir,0  exclaimed 
Madame  de  Vincy,  "  an  idea  strikes  me.  My  husband  tells 
me  that  you  are  going,  at  all  risks,  to  join  the  little  gather- 
ing of  French  at  La  Chaux-de-Fond,  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Neufchatel.  I  highly  approve  of  your  determination  not  to 
serve  your  country  with  strange  troops,  who  any  day  may 
become  our  enemies.  But  if  you  find  this  French  corps 
dispersed,  what  do  you  mean  to  do?" 

"  I  really  don't   know,*  I  replied. 

"Well,  then,"  she  rejoined,  <(if  you  can  put  up  with  such 
accommodation  as  we  can  offer  you  here,  why  should  you 
not  stop  a  few  days  till  we  can  obtain  some  information  as 
to  the  state  of  things  at  Neufchatel,  and  let  us,  for  a  time, 
replace  to  you  your  mother  and  sisters  ?  " 

I  colored ;  but  my  face  showed  the  pleasure  I  did  not 
dare  express.  The  ladies  understood  me  at  once,  and  Ma- 
demoiselle de  Vincy,  at  a  sign  from  her  mother,  taking  my 
little  bundle  from  my  hands,  laid  it  on  the  table. 

"Well,"  added  Madame  de  Vincy,  smiling,   "try  and  fancy  \ 
that  we  are  your  mother  and  sister  for   the   moment.     You 
will  not  refuse  to  let  us  shelter  you  for  some  weeks  till  we  I 
can  see  our  way  a  little  more  clearly  ;    and  will  you  not  be  /* 
as   comfortable    here    as   on  the  high-roads,  or  in  some  bad  i 
Swiss  inn?     Make  up  your  mind  to  stop  with  us,  for  I  al-  \ 
ready  feel  toward  you  as  to  a  son." 

"Ah!  madame,"  I  exclaimed  with  a  broken  voice,  "how 
can  I  resist  such  kindness,  and  go  against  my  own  heart's 
leanings?" 

"Well,  well,  then  it's  all  settled,"  exclaimed  husband  and 
wife  at  once.  "  We  will  go  and  order  your  room,  and  I 
hope  you  will  be  as  comfortable  or  more  so  than  at  the  inn 
of  Rolle." 

They  gave  me  a  room  with  a  most  glorious  view  over  the 
lake  of  Geneva,  and  I  found  myself  treated  in  all  respects 
as  one  of  the  familv. 


308  LAMARTINE 

From  that  hour  my  life  became  most  enjoyable.  The 
mother  and  daughter  took  possession  of  me,  while  M.  de 
Vincy,  busy  with  his  domestic  troubles,  was  painfully  col- 
lecting his  rents  from  the  tenants  of  Vincy.  I  had  almost 
forgotten  the  object  of  my  journey.  But  I  soon  found  that 
the  so-called  French  army,  which  had  been  organized  in 
Switzerland  by  the  Royalist  agents  of  the  Pays  de  Vaud, 
was  reduced  to  nothing,  or  contented  themselves  with  some 
insignificant  movements  without  any  result.  In  the  mean- 
time I  reveled  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  confidence  which  my 
circumstances  and  age  had  inspired  in  the  bosom  of  a  hos- 
pitable and  virtuous  family. 

One  day  during  my  stay  with  them  I  went  to  dine  in  the 
little  town  of  Nyons,  to  try  and  glean  some  news  to  bring 
back  to  my  hosts  at  the  Chateau  of  Vincy.  There  was  at 
Nyons  an  inn  dear  to  all  old  emigrants,  kept  by  a  maiden 
lady,  who  was  well  known  in  the  country.  Madame  de 
Vincy  gave  me  a  line  of  introduction  for  her,  and  I  went 
there  for  a  night.  She  received  me  as  an  old  friend.  There 
were  about  thirty  guests  at  the  table  cfhote,  at  which  she 
presided.  Hardly  was  I  seated,  without  any  intention  of 
being  remarked  by  anybody,  than  an  angry  squabble  arose 
at  the  other  end  of  the  table  between  some  people  who  had 
been  quietly  occupied  in  eating  their  dinner  in  silence,  and 
a  Swiss  officer  belonging  to  the  canton  of  Berne.  I  could 
not  help  listening  to  the  quarrel,  which  seemed  to  get 
warmer  every  moment. 

<(  No  !  *  at  last  exclaimed  the  officer,  <(  I  am  not  one  of 
those  mean  Frenchmen  who  renounce  the  great  man  who 
has  been  the  origin  of  all  their  glory  in  Europe,  and  who 
are  at  this  moment  forming  wishes  for  his  second  fall  from 
the  armies  of  the  allies.  And  if  you  don't  like  my  princi- 
ples, you  may,  if  you  please,  call  me  to  account  for  them. 
I  am  ready  to  answer  any  one  who  chooses  to  contradict 
me." 

Everybody  was  silent.  Some  of  the  company  went  away. 
I  was  the  youngest,  the  most  unknown,  and  the  farthest 
from  the  speaker,  who  was  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  long 
table.  I  therefore  held  my  tongue,  when  a  young  man  and 
two  very    pretty    women   who    were   with    him,  started    up 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  309 

close  to  a  side  door  which  led  into  the  dining-room.  Their 
speaking  faces,  the  deep  frown  on  their  foreheads,  and  the 
eager  eye  with  which  they  looked  up  and  down  the  room 
seeking  for  one  who  would  answer  and  avenge  their  cause, 
made  me  instantly  resolve  to  break  the  silence. 

"Very  well,  sir,"  I  exclaimed,  rising  and  turning  to  the 
officer  from  Berne,  <(  as  no  one  seems  disposed  to  answer 
your  insolent  speech,  I  shall  take  it  upon  myself  to  reply 
in  my  quality  as  a  Frenchman.  Yes,  sir,  I  am  one  of 
those  Frenchmen  whom  you  call  mean,  because  they  be- 
lieved in  the  reality  of  abdications,  and  in  the  sacred  nature 
of  treaties ;  and  did  not  think  that  the  caprice  of  a  volun- 
tary exile  in  the  island  of  Elba  could  dispose  at  his  will 
of  France  and  of  Europe.  They  still  hold  to  these  opinions  ; 
and  if  you  wish  to  be  answered  otherwise  than  by  words, 
I  am  ready,  and  will  meet  you  where  you  please.8 

At  these  words  a  low  murmur  of  applause  ran  through 
the  whole  length  of  the  table,  which  went  on  increasing 
till  the  officer,  looking  thoroughly  ashamed  of  himself,  re- 
tired, and  I  remained  confused  at  the  praise  I  had  unex- 
pectedly received.  I  sat  down  quickly,  rather  ashamed  of  my 
easy  triumph,  when  the  too  pretty  women,  whose  presence 
had  inspired  me  to  speak,  rushed  toward  me,  and  drawing 
me  toward  the  door  I  have  before  mentioned,  carried  me  off 
through  the  corridor  of  the  inn  to  their  own  room,  and 
congratulated  me  in  the  terms  which  I  have  since  heard  in 
the  House  of  Deputies. 

(<We  are  proud,  sir,  to  be  French  women,8  they  said,1 
(<  and  to  have  by  chance  heard  one  of  the  youngest  of  our 
countrymen  avenge  our  country  by  such  words  after  the 
insults  of  that  miserable  wretch,  whose  only  admiration  is 
for  tyranny.  As  to  ourselves,  believe  that  we  have  never 
made  a  pact  with  those  who  look  upon  glory  as  the  one 
good,  and  that  we  hailed  the  restoration  of  the  Bourbons 
as  the  return  to  right  and  liberty.  Tell  us  who  you  are, 
and  pray  make  use  of  our  little  apartment  here  while  you 
are  staying  in  this  hotel.8 

They  brought  some  punch,  and  I  drank  to  the  health  of 
my  enthusiastic  friends  ;  after  which,  thanking  them  warmly 
for  their  kindness,  I   went    back    to    Vincy.     A   note    from 


3io  LAMARTINE 

the  landlady  of  the  hotel  had  preceded  me  :  my  little  ad- 
venture, colored  by  her  good-nature,  seemed  heroic.  They 
received  me  in  consequence  as  a  Royalist  hero.  Fortune 
had  served  me.  I  had  defended  at  the  same  time  the  cause 
of  the  Bernese  aristocracy,  and  that  of  the  King  of  France. 
These  two  ladies  were  Mesdames  de  Bellegarde,  doubly 
famous  from  the  part  they  had  played  during  the  French 
Revolution  of  1792  and  1793,  and  by  their  enthusiasm  for 
the  restoration  on  the  return  of  Louis  XVIII.  in  1814. 
Although  very  different  in  expression,  they  were  still  very 
beautiful,  a  beauty  which  had  exposed  them  in  former 
times  to  all  the  snares  of  human  love  and  admiration. 
The  eldest,  the  Countess  de  Bellegarde,  had  a  face  like 
that  of  Judith  by  Allori.  She  was  tall,  large,  dark,  with 
passionate  black  eyes,  a  living  picture  in  fact  of  enthu- 
siasm. The  youngest,  also  tall  and  with  a  beautiful 
figure,  was  a  great  contrast  to  her  sister ;  she  was  fair, 
delicate,  and  sensitive,  with  blue  dreamy  eyes,  which 
often  wore  an  expression  of  great  sadness.  They  were 
natives  of  Sardinia,  the  daughters  of  a  Count  de  Belle- 
garde, and  had  been  left  orphans  very  young.  Their 
father  had  been  in  the  service  of  the  House  of  Austria, 
and  their  name  had  long  been  distinguished  among  the 
generals  whom  the  Emperor  was  fond  of  selecting  from  the 
Italian  states,  such  as  the  Montecuculli  and  others.  Left 
in  the  country  home  of  their  ancestors  during  the  begin- 
ning of  the  French  Revolution,  they  lived  in  a  magnificent 
chdteau  called  Des  Marches,  in  the  midst  of  the  beautiful 
valley  of  Gresivaudan.  After  having  conquered  Savoy  and 
Geneva,  the  revolutionary  general,  De  Montesquieu  (then 
in  the  full  height  of  his  power,  though  soon  after  pro- 
scribed), had  taken  refuge  in  the  mountains  of  Switzer- 
land, to  wait  for  better  times,  and  the  province  of  Savoy 
had  been  given  up  to  the  proconsul  Herault  de  Sechelles. 
Before  the  days  of  the  Convention,  Herault  had  been  a 
magistrate  and  a  philosopher,  and  a  model  of  honorable 
and  high-principled  conduct.  His  beautiful  face  and  figure 
resembled  that  of  Antinous ;  he  was  the  <(  Barbarossa w  of 
the  aristocracy.  Elected  unanimously  by  the  legislative  as- 
sembly, he  had  obtained  a  high  position  there,  not  only  by 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  311 

his  eloquence  and  the  dignity  of  his  bearing,  but  by  his 
Jacobin  enthusiasm.  With  his  great  zeal,  his  voice,  and 
his  expressive  face,  he  became  the  idol  of  the  neophytes  of 
those  days ;  but,  insensibly  dragged  on  by  the  revolution- 
ary torrent  beyond  his  own  convictions,  he  had,  like  Le 
Pelletier  de  St.  Fargeau,  yielded  to  the  popular  tumult, 
and  sacrificed  the  King  to  the  exigencies  and  barbaric 
violence  of  the  republic.  Popular  favor,  however,  had  re- 
warded him  for  this  weak  compliance  as  if  it  had  been  a 
virtue.  Sent  soon  after  to  republican  Savoy,  he  was  at 
the  same  time  a  conqueror  and  conquered:  he  came  to  the 
Chateau  of  Marches,  and  saw  these  two  beautiful  orphans 
without  a  guardian  or  protector;  the  one  in  all  the  splen- 
dor of  her  grown-up  beauty,  the  other  with  all  the  tender 
grace  of  budding  girlhood.  A  passionate  love  for  the 
Countess  de  Bellegarde  took  possession  of  his  heart ;  while 
his  burning  eloquence  inspired  these  young  girls  with  an 
enthusiasm  for  his  own  opinions.  The  two  sisters  had 
been  introduced  by  him  as  models  to  the  fanatical  people 
of  those  provinces.  A  little  later  he  became  unpopular 
with  his  party  from  his  moderation,  and  Herault  de  Sech- 
elles  followed  Danton  to  the  scaffold,  and  died  an  honest 
republican,  a  victim  to  the  crimes  of  the  people. 

The  Countess  of  Bellegarde  and  her  innocent  sister 
wished  to  share  his  fate ;  but  even  these  brutal  judges, 
dazzled  by  their  youth  and  beauty,  would  not  condemn 
them.  They  had  lived  ever  since  that  time  in  the  Ch&teau 
of  Marches,  sharing  in  the  society  around  them,  and  in  the 
reaction  against  the  Terrorists,  of  whom  they  had  so 
nearly  been  the  victims.  The  events  of  the  20th  of  March 
had  revolted  them ;  they  had  quitted  their  ch&tcau  and 
come  to  Nyons  to  live  with  the  Royalists.  It  was  thus 
that  I  first  became  acquainted  with  them,  and  in  their  en- 
thusiastic declarations  I  recognized  the  pupils  of  him  in 
whose  political  school  they  had  been  brought  up. 

Two  days  after,  I  resolved  to  profit  by  my  near  neigh- 
borhood to  see,  at  least  once  before  her  death,  Madame  de 
Stael,  who  had  long  been  the  object  of  my  antipathy  on 
account  of  her  father,  and  of  my  enthusiasm  as  regarded 
herself.     Coppet,  which  was   the  abode   of   M.  Necker,  had 


312  LAMARTINE 

been  previously  bought  by  my  grandfather,  who  had  kept 
it  a  long  time  without  living  in  it ;  but  all  of  a  sudden  the 
canton  of  Berne  passed  a  law  refusing  the  rights  of  pro- 
prietorship to  any  Catholic ;  so  that  he  ceded  it  to  I  know 
not  whom,  and  bought  in  its  stead  the  beautiful  castle  of 
Ursy,  in  Burgundy.  I  felt  that  it  would  hardly  be  right 
for  me,  as  a  guest  of  the  Vincys,  to  go  and  introduce 
myself  at  the  Chateau  of  Coppet  as  a  pilgrim  at  the  tomb 
of  M.  Necker,  whom  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  admire  or 
to  love.  <(  I  should  be  wanting  to  two  persons,  *  I  said  : 
"  to  Madame  de  Vincy  and  to  myself.  I  will  not  go !  ■ 
Only,  as  the  high-road  is  the  property  of  everybody,  I 
thought  a  cat  might  look  at  a  king,  and  that  a  glimpse  of 
her  would  satisfy  without  compromising  me.  I  knew  that 
[Madame  de  Stael  went  twice  a  week  to  Geneva  with  cer- 
l  tain  friends  of  hers,  among  whom  were  two  beautiful 
women,  one  Madame  Recamier,  her  great  friend,  exiled, 
like  her,  from  all  countries  under  the  dominion  of  the  Em- 
peror ;  the  other,  Mile,  de  Constant,  a  German,  of  still 
wider  reputation ;  but,  at  this  period  of  my  life,  the  ad- 
miration of  genius  extinguished  all  other  in  my  heart. 

I  got  up,  therefore,  very  early  one  Saturday,  which  was 
the  day  they  told  me  Madame  de  Stael  made  her  weekly 
expedition  to  Geneva,  and  putting  a  piece  of  bread  in  my 
pocket,  I  hid  myself  at  a  turn  of  the  road  from  Coppet  to 
Geneva,  being  partly  concealed  by  a  great  ditch  on  the 
high-road,  by  the  side  of  which  her  carriage  must  neces- 
sarily pass.  I  remained  there  from  nine  o'clock  in  the 
morning  till  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  hidden  by  the 
shrubs  at  the  side  of  the  road ;  during  which  time  I 
amused  myself  by  reading  <(  Corinne w  (that  beautiful  work 
of  that  modern  Sappho),  and  listening  with  a  quick  ear  to 
the  least  sound  of  a  carriage  coming  from  Coppet.  In 
spite  of  the  poetic  interest  of  this  beautiful  book  on  Italy, 
the  day  appeared  to  me  rather  long,  and  I  at  last  deter- 
mined to  quit  my  hiding-place,  when  to  my  great  joy  I 
heard  the  rolling  of  two  carriages,  which  left  me  no  doubt 
as  to  their  occupants.  They  passed  like  the  wind;  the  first 
contained  only  two  gentlemen  with  Mile.  Constant ;  a  beau- 
tiful person   in    the  flower  of    her  age.     I  could  only,  how- 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  313 

ever,  snatch  one  look  at  her,  which  was  followed  by  an 
involuntary  cry  of  admiration.  The  next  carriage,  which 
was  an  open  one,  contained  two  women,  whom  it  was  im- 
possible not  to  recognize.  One  was  Madame  Recamier, 
whose  angelic  face  could  bear  no  other  name,  and  of  whom 
it  was  said  that  one  look  sufficed  to  bind  your  heart  to  her 
forever ;  but  her  beauty,  although  it  dazzled,  did  not  dis- 
tract me.  Her  companion,  who  was  speaking  to  her  in  a 
loud  voice,  was,  however,  the  person  of  whom  I  was  in 
search.  I  had  time  to  take  in  her  features  thoroughly,  for 
the  horses  slacked  their  speed  at  a  little  rise  there  was  in 
the  ground.  Madame  de  Stael  was,  as  usual,  dressed  in 
an  Indian  turban,  of  which  the  varied  and  well-assorted 
colors  seemed  to  be  magically  reflected  upon  her  forehead. 
The  forehead  was  large,  prominent,  and  high,  as  if  to  give 
space  to  a  whole  world  of  thought  and  new  ideas  ;  it 
shaded  to  prominent  eyes  of  magnificent  shape  and  bril- 
liancy ;  all  her  expression,  in  fact,  lay  in  these  eyes  ;  they 
spoke  more  than  her  mouth.  Her  nose  was  short  and 
finely  shaped  ;  her  lips  thick  and  open,  made  for  eloquence 
or  for  love ;  her  complexion  was  pale,  but  brightened  by  a 
look  of  inspiration.  Her  arms,  which  were  always  in  move- 
ment, and  exposed  by  short,  open  sleeves,  were  white  and 
magnificent ;  her  whole  person,  though  large,  was  not  want- 
ing in  a  grace  which  called  forth  admiration  ;  in  fact,  it 
commanded  it.  The  little  hill  had  been  climbed.  The 
horses  started  again  at  a  trot,  and  nothing  remained  to  me 
but  the  dust  they  left  behind  them.  Genius  had  passed 
me  with  its  escort  of  beauty  ;  but  what  remained  on  one's 
memory  was  the  genius.  I  could  not  finish  the  volume  of 
<(  Corinne  w  after  having  seen  its  author  !  I  came  back  very 
late  and  found  my  friends  waiting  for  me  for  supper.  I 
was  obliged  to  own  to  Madame  de  Vincy  what  had  been 
the  cause  of  my  long  absence.  (<  Why  did  you  not  tell  me 
of  your  very  natural  admiration  ?  *  replied  this  noble 
woman  ;  (<  in  spite  of  some  differences  of  opinion,  we  have 
for  Madame  de  Stael  as  much  enthusiasm  as  yourself.  We 
would  have  taken  and  introduced  you  to  her.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  see  without  admiring  her,  or  to  be  her  neighbor 
without    loving   her.     Her  faults  are  those  of    her   training 


3H  LAMARTINE 

and  her  wit ;  her  good  qualities  belong  to  her  own  heart ; 
the  foundation  of  all  her  glory  is  really  her  goodness.  * 
*  No,  ®  I  replied  to  my  kind  hostess.  *  I  would  rather 
have  seen  her  quietly  without  knowing  her ;  I  have  had  a 
glimpse  of  genius,  and  it  was  as  rapid  and  fugitive  as 
itself ;  *  and  then  we  began  to  talk  of  other  things. 

I  had  spent  three  weeks  in  this  delightful  house  in  a 
delicious  intimacy  with  the  Vincy  family  ;  but  I  knew  the 
extreme  poverty  of  the  house,  and  I  was  afraid  of  being 
indiscreet,  and  perhaps  burdensome.  I  settled,  therefore,  to 
delay  no  longer  my  start  for  Neufch&tel  and  La  Chaux-de- 
Fond,  to  seek  the  French  royalist  military  gathering.  They 
smiled  at  my  enthusiasm,  but  they  let  me  go.  A  gentleman 
from  Lyons,  who  was  a  great  agriculturist,  came  in  the 
same  way  that  I  had  done  to  present  himself  to  Monsieur 
de  Vincy,  and  gave  me  a  pretext  for  departure.  I  took 
leave  of  my  kind  and  generous  hosts  with  a  pang ;  it  ap- 
peared to  me  as  if  I  were  again  parting  from  my  own  fam- 
ily. Madame  and  Mile,  de  Vincy  had  tears  in  their  eves 
at  wishing  me  good-by.  I  started  with  my  Lyons  compan- 
ion, but  promised  to  return  if  the  gathering  at  La  Chaux- 
de-Fond  disappointed  my  expectations.  At  Rollo  we  char- 
tered a  kind  of  Swiss  car  to  conduct  us  to  Neufch&tel. 
Our  vetturino  brought  us  there  in  three  days,  the  road 
winding  round  the  base  of  the  Jura  mountains,  amidst  the 
most  beautiful  scenery  possible,  with  the  Lakes  Leman, 
Yverdun,  and  of  Neufchatel  to  the  right,  and  grand  rocks 
and  pine  forests  to  the  left.  We  were  perfectly  charmed 
with  our  expedition,  and  as  our  opinions  were  identical, 
there  was  nothing  in  our  conversation  to  mar  our  enjoy- 
ment of  this  magnificent  scenery.  The  first  question  we 
asked  on  arriving  at  the  hotel  at  Neufchdtel  was  about  the 
French  military  gathering  at  La  Chaux-de-Fond.  No  one 
had  an  idea  of  what  we  meant!  'I  began  to  fear  our  roy- 
alist visions  would  vanish  in  smoke.  My  companion  was  so 
discouraged  that  he  decided  to  return  to  his  Lyons  prop- 
erty. I,  however,  was  determined  to  persevere  in  the  search, 
and  next  day  started  on  foot  for  La  Chaux-de-Fond.  The 
path  led  through  a  beautiful  forest  of  sombre  pines  and  mag- 
nificent waterfalls,  and  I  did  not  arrive  there  till  the  morning 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  315 

of  the  following  day.  La  Chaux-de-Fond  was  then  a  poor  little 
Swiss  village,  situated  "orTthe  extreme  frontiers  of  France, 
and  inhabited  by  peasants  who  were  all  clock-makers.  Its 
picturesque  wooden  houses  were  scattered  here  and  there 
over  the  plain  which  led  to  the  pine  wood.  My  appear- 
ance and  dress  were  rather  those  of  a  journeyman  watch- 
maker, who  was  coming  to  seek  employment  from  one  cf 
the  clock-makers  in  the  district.  I  went  into  the  first 
public-house  I  came  to,  and  asked  for  the  address  of  the 
head  of  the  staff  of  the  French  army.  The  people  looked 
at  one  another  with  surprise,  and  after  having  said  some- 
thing in  a  patois  unintelligible  to  me,  concluded  with  a 
smile  that  I  was  wishing  to  find  a  French  priest  named 
L/Abbe  Lafond,  who  had  been  living  in  the  only  decent 
hotel  in  the  village  for  one  or  two  months,  and  to  whose 
lodging  they  proposed  to  conduct  me.  I  began  to  doubt 
the  existence  of  a  staff  corps,  which  thus  disappeared  like  a 
mirage,  and  which  seemed  to  be  represented  by  an  abbe  in 
a  wild  village  on  the  side  of  the  Alps ;  however,  having 
come  so  far,  I  was  determined  to  see,  and  I  saw.  What 
was  called  the  great  hotel  of  La  Chaux-de-Fond  was  a  little 
house  at  the  end  of  a  long  solitary  street,  on  the  opposite 
side  to  that  by  which  I  had  come  into  the  village.  A 
young  girl,  who  had  volunteered  to  be  my  guide,  said  smil- 
ing to  the  innkeeper,  <(  Here  is  a  gentleman  who  is  look- 
ing for  the  French  army  ;  they  told  him  at  our  house 
that  its  head-quarters  were  with  you,  and  that  its  gen- 
eral was  I,' Abbe  Lafond!*  "It's  quite  true,*  replied 
the  innkeeper ;  (<  we  have  got  here  a  gentleman  who  calls 
himself  the  Abbe  Lafond,  but  who  says  he  is  a  major-general 
in  the  Freneh  army.  If  you,  sir,*  he  added,  turning  to 
me,  (<  wish  to  speak  to  him,  I  will  go  and  ask  him  to  come 
down-stairs  ;  in  the  meantime,  here  is  a  little  table  with 
some  fresh  bread  and  cheese,  and  beer,  to  refresh  you  after 
your  hot  walk.*  They  brought  me,  accordingly,  this  primi- 
tive breakfast,  and  I  sat  down  to  eat  it  in  the  best  parlor  of 
the  little  inn. 

I  was  hardly  seated  at  the  table,  however,  before  I  saw 
a  little  man  with  a  beaming  face,  between  thirty  and  forty 
years  of  age,  come  rapidly  down  a   little   wooden    staircase. 


316  LAMARTINE 

"Oh!  there  is  Monsieur  l'Abb6  Lafond,"  exclaimed  the  serv- 
ant, and  she  brought  him  to  where  I  was  sitting.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  brown  great-coat,  which  was  half  military,  half 
ecclesiastical.  His  black  stockings  carefully  drawn  up  over 
his  well-made  calves,  reminded  one  of  a  priest ;  while  the 
black  cravat  and  military  collar  made  me  fancy  that  he  was 
an  officer.  He  thus  represented  a  double  character,  the  ec- 
clesiastic below  and  the  soldier  above ;  he  was,  in  fact, 
made  to  suit  every  taste.  I  got  up  and  bowed,  while  he 
came  forward  smiling,  and  asked  me,  *  What  had  brought 
me  to  see  him  in  this  out-of-the-way  part  of  the  world  ?  * 
I  begged  him  to  sit  down.  He  said  he  would  breakfast 
with  me,  and  ordered  some  eggs,  and  we  entered  into  con- 
versation while  filling  our  glasses  with  beer.  (<  You  have 
come  from  Monsieur  de  Viucy,8  he  said  to  me  at  last. 
<(Here  is  a  letter  from  him,8  I  replied.  He  read  it,  and 
then  said  quietly;  "This  is  just  what  I  had  supposed."  I 
continued :  <(  I  am  come  to  join  the  little  army  which  is 
being  organized,  I  am  told,  under  your  orders,  at  La  Chaux- 
de-Fond.  I  will  not  serve  with  strangers  against  France, 
but  I  am  dying  to  fight  for  the  King  against  the  Emperor ; 
where  is  the  army?"  "The  army!8  he  exclaimed;  <(  why, 
it  is  I !  there  is  no  other.  Was  not  I  alone,  two  years 
ago,  the  army  of  a  general,  who,  with  the  help  of  a  single 
man,  put  a  whole  ministry  in  prison,  and  an  empire  in  his 
pocket?  Men  after  all  are  nothing;  it  is  the  idea  which  is 
all  in  all ;  the  idea  is  mine,  and  if  I  can  persuade  every 
one  from  here  to  Besancon  (as  I  have  done)  that  a  formida- 
ble army  has  been  formed  on  this  frontier,  ready  to  act 
when  the  time  comes,  is  it  not  as  useful,  and  as  much 
dreaded  by  the  enemy  as  if  indeed  numberless  battalions 
were  prepared  to  enter  France  by  this  route,  to  bear  succor 
to  the  Royalists?  Without  money,  without  pay,  without 
soldiers,  without  arms,  I  keep  a  whole  province  in  check, 
and  paralyze  both  Besancon  and  Belfort.  You  see  that  you 
come  yourself  to  join  us,  and  you  find  only  a  head  instead 
of  arms  ;  believe  me,  it  is  enough  ;  stay  with  me,  we  shall 
be  two  instead  of  one  ;  and  when  the  Emperor  has  been 
defeated  in  the  open  fields  by  the  armies  of  Europe,  we 
shall  have  been  believed  to  have  led  a  general  insurrection, 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  317 

and  the  East  of  France  will  think  that  their  deliverance  is 
owing  to  us.*  I  fairly  burst  out  laughing.  <(  From  this 
statement,  Monsieur  l'Abbe\  am  I  to  imagine  that  shadows 
are  as  powerful  as  bodies,  and  that  imagination  surpasses 
reality  ?  *  He  replied  :  (<  Have  I  not  already  clearly  proved  > 
in  1813,  that  if  General  Hulin  had  consented  to  allow  him- 
self to  be  convinced  by  a  ball  in  his  jaw  that  the  Emperor 
was  dead,  the  empire  would  have  died  in  reality  ?  *  <(  You 
are  right,  Monsieur  1'AbbeV*  I  answered;  <(  but  a  surprise 
is  not  a  revolution.  Some  man  comes,  more  curious,  or  per- 
haps, you  will  say,  more  obstinate  than  others.  Instead  of 
a  well-appointed  army  he  finds  nothing  but  an  ecclesiastic'; 
and  if  he  does  not  want  to  pass  for  an  adventurer,  he  blows 
upon  the  shadow,  and  its  nothingness  is  made  apparent. 
I^et  us  have  our  breakfast  together  in  peace,  and  I  will 
take  leave  of  you  afterward.  I  shall  not  believe  again  so 
lightly  in  representations  from  a  distance,  and  shall  content 
myself  with  waiting ;  while  you  must  be  satisfied  with  my 
good  wishes.*  He  saw  that  his  army  would  never  arrive 
at  more  than  one  man  ;  but  he  comforted  himself  by  giving 
me  all  the  details  of  Malet's  conspiracy,  in  which  he  had 
played  the  principal  part.  Fifteen  or  twenty  innocent  Bona- 
partists  had  been  shot  to  convince  the  Emperor  of  the  reality 
of  the  conspiracy ;  the  Abb6  L,afond,  who  was  the  only 
guilty  one,  escaped.  He  evidently  hoped  to  play  the  same 
game  a  second  time ;  but  I  refused  to  act  as  his  second.  I 
must  do  him  the  justice  to  say,  that  he  was  a  man  of  won- 
derful genius  and  resources.  When  he  was  the  chaplain  of 
a  madhouse  close  to  one  where  General  Malet  was  expiating 
a  previous  sentence,  he  felt  that  he  wanted  a  soldier  to  pull 
the  strings  of  a  military  conspiracy,  and  persuaded  him  to 
undertake  it.  He  had  but  one  man,  it  is  true,  but  he  very 
nearly  succeeded.  He  was  confident  of  succeeding  again, 
but  miracles  do  not  happen  twice  in  a  man's  life.  It  was 
impossible  to  hear  any  one  relate  a  story  which  one  might 
think  little  to  the  credit  of  an  ecclesiastic,  with  more  con- 
fidence in  the  purity  of  his  motives.  He  was  really  a  mas- 
ter in  political  intrigue  ;  but  he  had  not  the  art  of  varying 
his  subject ;  he  always  played  the  same  tune.  After  having 
studied   him    for   one   whole    evening,    although    immensely 


318  LAMARTINE 

struck  by  his  genius,  I  left  him  the  next  day  without 
regret,  and  went  back  to  Neufchatel,  my  illusory  search 
after  military  glory  being  dispelled.  I  came  back  by  Berne 
to  the  Chateau  de  Vincy,  where  I  gave  them  a  full  account 
of  the  puerilities  of  the  Abbe"  Lafond.  I  always  wonder 
what  has  become  of  him  since,  but  I  never  could  find  out. 
He  lives,  and  probably  conspires  still.  I  have  always  been 
astonished  not  to  hear  of  him  as  having  been  shot  in  some 
great  conspiracy  strangled  at  the  birth ;  but  I  believe  that 
there  is  a  special  Providence  which  watches  over  men  of 
this  sort,  and  that  I/Abbe"  Lafond  will  probably  go  to  his 
grave  in  peace. 

At  Paris,  the  Emperor  could  not  live  long  on  the  con- 
spiracy of  Elba,  and  the  Royalists  and  Liberals  gave  him 
little  time  to  decide  on  any  line  of  conduct.  He  was  con- 
tinually promising  reforms  ;  but  his  only  real  hope  was  in 
the  army.  Before  he  was  really  ready,  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  take  the  field.  Waterloo  was  to  cut  the  knot ; 
that  day,  so  fatal  to  military  France,  was  drawing  near ! 
In  the  meanwhile  I  resolved  to  pass  into  Savoy  on  the 
other  side  of   the  lake. 

There  was  a  boatman  in  the  Savoyard  village  of  Narnier 
who  spent  his  time  in  ferrying  over  the  inhabitants  of  the 
two  countries,  from  the  Swiss  to  the  Savoyard  side   of   the 

lake.     He   was  known    to    Mademoiselle  ,  the  mistress 

of  the  hotel  where  the  Mesdames  Bellegarde  lived.  I  took 
leave  a  second  time,  therefore,  of  my  kind  hostesses  at  the 
Chateau  de  Vincy,  and  went  to  Nyons.  I  begged  the  mis- 
tress of  the  inn  to  recommend  me  to  the  boatman  of  Nar- 
nier as  a  good  Royalist  flying  from  Imperial  France,  and 
only  wishing  to  live  in  peace  until  the  political  horizon 
brightened.  The  boatman,  himself  a  devoted  Royalist,  con- 
sented on  these  terms  to  ferry  me  over.  I  embarked  in 
his  little  open  felucca,  which  was  loaded  with  cattle,  to- 
ward the  end  of  June ;  but  it  was  one  of  those  stormy 
days  which  made  the  Lake  Leman  as  tempestuous  as  the 
Archipelago.  We  had,  in  consequence,  a  very  dangerous 
crossing,  and  the  waves  increasing  in  violence  as  we  ap- 
proached the  shores  of  Savoy,  prolonged  our  voyage  till  far 
into  the  night.     Luckily,  one  billow,  larger  than    the   rest, 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  319 

threw  us  safely  on  the  sand.  At  Narnier  I  went  to  lodge 
in  the  house  of  the  boatman  himself,  who  consented  to 
shelter  me  for  some  hours.  During  supper  I  asked  him  if 
there  were  any  lodgings  in  this  place  which  would  receive 
me  at  a  very  low  price,  for  my  journey  to  Neufch&tel  and 
Berne  had  made  a  great  hole  in  my  fifty  pounds  ;  and  if 
my  exile  were  to  be  prolonged  some  time  longer,  I  began 
to  think  I  must  pass  over  to  England  or  to  Russia,  and 
earn  my  bread  by  teaching  French.  The  boatman  spoke  to 
his  daughter  (a  young  woman  of  about  twenty  years  of 
age)  about  a  little  empty  house  on  the  borders  of  the  lake, 
which  had  been  used  as  a  guard-house  by  the  custom- 
house officers  of  the  King  of  Sardinia  until  the  breaking 
out  of  the  war;  but  which  he  would  be  very  willing  to  let 
to  me  if  I  could  content  myself  with  such  humble  accom- 
modation, and  if  the  hay  of  his  poor  neighbors,  which  he 
yearly  deposited  there,  was  no  inconvenience  to  me.  <(The 
house, })  he  said,  turning  to  me,  (<is  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour's  walk  from  Narnier:  if  this  arrangement  should  be 
agreeable  to  you,  I  would  let  you  the  apartment  for  two- 
pence-halfpenny a  day,  and  would  feed  you  for  sevenpence- 
halfpenny  a  meal ;  without  meat  certainly,  but  with  excellent 
bread,  lake  trout,  and  cheese."  That  would  come  to  ten- 
pence  a  day,  and  his  proposal  suited  not  only  my  purse, 
but  fully  satisfied  my  love  of  solitude  ;  so  that  the  bargain 
was  struck,  and  the  very  next  day  his  daughter  took  me 
to  my  new  quarters. 

On  leaving  the  village  of  Narnier,  an  unrrequented  little 
path  leads  across  some  beautiful  meadows  by  the  side  of  the 
lake.  After  walking  for  some  minutes  in  silence  with  my 
guide,  I  heard  the  regular  noise  of  the  waves  of  the  lake 
grating  on  the  rocky  promontories,  and  dying  away  softly 
on  the  yellow  sand  of  the  shore,  while  the  fresh  breeze 
from  the  lake  refreshed  my  whole  frame.  At  a  little  dis- 
tance I  perceived  a  square  and  solitary  building  very  much 
like  the  hull  of  a  shipwrecked  vessel  ;  the  walls  on  the 
shore-side  had  only  a  low  door,  which  was  partly  hidden 
by  a  group  of  osiers  ;  on  the  water-side  was  a  little  win- 
dow, low  and  narrow,  like  a  loophole,  from  whence  you 
could    watch    the    lake    without    being    yourself    observed. 


320  LAMARTINE 

Window  and  door,  all  was  shut ;  there  was  no  sign  of  life 
about  the  place,  nor  a  sound  in  the  house  or  out  of  it ;  it 
reminded  one  of  the  dwelling  of  a  leper  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  such  as  Xavier  de  Maistre  described  in  his  (<  Solitude  }) 
some  months  before  ;  only  there  was  no  leper.  (<  Here  is 
the  house,  sir,w  said  the  young  boat-woman  to  me,  not, 
however,  without  a  look  of  some  anxiety,  as  if  she  were 
afraid  that  the  mournful  appearance  of  everything  would 
disgust  me  with  the  place. 

While  speaking  she  put  a  great  wooden  key  into  the  lock, 
and  the  heavy  door  rolled  on  its  hinges.  A  bat,  the  only 
inhabitant  of  the  place,  flew  in  my  face,  blindly  knocking 
its  wings  against  the  wall ;  but  I  was  not  thereby  dismayed, 
and  we  went  up-stairs  to  the  only  room  in  the  house,  which 
had  served  as  the  head-quarters  of  the  custom-house  officer. 
The  room  was  not  more  than  eight  or  ten  feet  in  diameter, 
with  the  exception  of  a  window,  which  remained  open  to 
give  some  air  to  the  forage.  Everything  was  full  of  hay. 
*  This  is  the  room,"  said  hesitatingly  and  modestly  the  girl ; 
then,  as  if  ashamed  to  offer  so  extraordinary  a  lodging  to 
a  stranger,  she  hastily  added,  <(But  of  course,  it  will  be 
emptied  and  cleaned ;  and  we  shall  put  a  nice  bed  and 
table  in  the  place  of  the  hay.  *  As  she  spoke  she  gave  un- 
intentionally a  little  kick  with  her  sabot  to  the  dried  grass 
before  us,  and  out  rushed  a  whole  army  of  mice,  which  be- 
gan racing  about  the  room.  <(  Oh  !  what  pleasant  bed-fel- 
lows," I  said,  laughingly,  to  the  girl:  "Bats  and  rats! 
Well,"  I  addea,  after  a  few  minutes,  putting  my  head  out 
of  the  window  and  contemplating  the  beautiful  waves  which 
dashed  gently  against  the  walls  of  the  cottage,  the  glorious 
scenery  of  the  mountains  of  the  Pays  de  Vaud  in  front  of 
me,  and  the  two  promontories  which  formed  the  bay  of 
Narnier,  <(  well,  I  find  the  house  charming,  and  I  will  take 
it.*  Her  face  expanded  with  pride  and  satisfaction,  while  I 
sat  quietly  down  on  the  hay.  <(I  don't  want  any  other 
bed,"  I  continued;  wa  pair  of  sheets  and  a  counterpane  are 
all  I  need  ;  I  shall  do  very  well  here.  I  am  used  to  cam- 
paigning, and  the  smell  of  the  hay  is  rather  pleasant  to 
me  than  otherwise.  Are  you  married  mademoiselle  ?  w  ((  No, 
sir,w  she  replied;  "my  father  is  a   widower    and    old.     He 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  321 

would  remain  quite  alone  here  if  I  were  to  leave  him  ;  there 
would  be  nobody  in  the  house  to  make  his  soup ;  no  one 
in  the  boat  to  mend  his  sails ;  no  one  at  the  helm  to 
guide  the  rudder.  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  leave 
my  father. *  "You  are  a  good  and  noble  girl,®  I  answered, 
*  and  God  will  bless  you  for  it. ®  I  looked  at  her  with  an 
expression  which  seemed  to  say,  <(  Any  man  would  have 
been  happy  to  have  won  so  fair  a  face.®  She  rowed  me 
quietly  back,  without  speaking,  to  her  father's  house.  <(  I 
will  bring  you  some  fresh  bread  and  milk  and  cheese  every 
morning  for  your  breakfast,®  she  said,  as  we  landed;  (<  and 
I  will  fry  your  fish  and  make  you  some  coffee  at  home  for 
your  dinner  ;  that  is  all  I  can  do,  I  am  afraid  as  I  am  not 
a  great  ( artiste  * ;  you  will  forgive,  monsieur,  such  plain 
country  fare  ;  it  is  not  like  the  inn  at  Nyons,  you 
see  ! » 

The  boatman  was  very  much  pleased  to  find  that  his 
strange  little  house  on  the  lake  would  answer  my  purpose. 
Everything  was  arranged  that  evening  to  my  satisfaction. 
I  dined  at  Narnier  with  my  host,  and  in  the  evening  I 
went  and  installed  myself  in  my  new  abode.  All  my  bag- 
gage went  in  a  pocket-handkerchief,  and  consisted  of  some 
books  brought  from  Nyons  and  a  pair  of  pocket-pistols, 
which  I  placed  in  front  of  my  window.  I  slept  on  the  hay 
as  one  sleeps  at  eighteen.  The  troubled  mice  ran  about  all 
night,  trying  to  find  their  accustomed  holes,  and  the  bats 
cried  out  at  dawn  of  day  ;  but  that  only  showed  me  that 
I  was  not  alone.  The  swallows  knocked  their  wings  against 
my  window  early  in  the  morning,  and  were  very  much  aston- 
ished to  find  the  panes  of  glass  which  had  been  put  in  the 
night  before  by  the  young  boat-woman.  I  got  up  and 
opened  the  window,  and  they  flew  fearlessly  about  my 
room  ;  then  I  took  my  pencil,  and  looking  beyond  the  lake 
to  the  little  white  speck  which  marked  the  Chateau  of 
Vincy,  I  wrote  the  following  verses  :  — 

Pourquoi  me  fuir,  passagere  hirondelle  f 
Viens  reposer  ton  aile  aupres  de  tnoi. 

Pourquoi  me  fuir  quand  un  ami  Vappellef 
Ne  suis-je  pas  voyageur  comme  toi  ?  etc. 

21 


322  LAMARTINE 

The  daughter  of  the  boatman  came  to  knock  at  my  door 
at  the  very  moment  I  was  finishing  these  verses,  which  I  men- 
tally addressed  to  Vincy.  I  gave  them  to  nobody,  and  I 
was  very  much  astonished  some  years  after  to  hear  them 
sung  at  Paris  and  attributed  to  Monsieur  de  Chateaubriand. 
;  They  were  not  worth  his  while  to  disown,  nor  mine  to 
claim.     We  all  remember  his  touching  romance, 

Ma  sceur,  te  souviens-tu  encore 
Du  ch&teau  que  baignait  la  Dore, 
Et  de  cette  tant  vie  He  Tour 
Du  More, 

Ou  Vairain   sonnait  le  retour 
Du  jour? 

Chateaubriand  was  a  great  poet  in  prose,  and  I  was  noth- 
ing but  the  nightingale  stammering  by  chance  a  plaintive 
air  in  my  solitude.     .     .     . 

I  continued  to  live  alone  in  my  empty  dwelling  with  n?f 
dumb  companions.  Oh  !  how  happy  I  should  have  been  if 
Providence  had  granted  me  a  dog  !  One,  at  last,  came  to 
me  from  a  castle  near  Narnier,  who  attached  himself  to  me 
because  I  petted  him,  and  he  found  me  alone.  Whenever 
a  person  is  unhappy,  God  sends  him  a  dog  ;  I  have  proved 
it  twenty  times,  although  man  does  not  always  perceive  it. 
The  moment  the  dog  adopted  me,  my  solitude  ceased  ;  for 
he  never  left  me.  We  loved  one  another,  and  so  we 
walked,  eat,  and  slept  together  ;  and  he  understood  me  as 
thoroughly  as  I  did  him.  I  had  now  two  friends,  the  dog 
and  the  boatman's  daughter,  and  my  days  were  calm,  peace- 
ful, and  delicious. 

The  news  of  the  battle  of  Waterloo  came  to  me  one 
morning  in  a  little  boat  rowed  by  a  messenger  from  Ma- 
dame de  Vincy.  I  watched  it  at  sunrise  out  of  my  win- 
dow like  a  seagull  whose  wings  are  colored  by  the  rays  of 
the  morning,  never  dreaming  that  this  little  skiff  bore  for 
me  a  new  fate  —  the  fate  of  the  whole  world.  The  boat 
grounded  on  the  sand  ;  I  put  my  head  out  of  the  window 
and  the  messenger  asked  me  if  I  knew  a  young  French- 
man who  had  taken  refuge  at  Narnier?  I  replied  that  I 
was  the  person  of  whom  he  was  in  search.  He  gave  me 
directly  a  long  letter   from   Madame  de  Vincy,  and  a  quan- 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  323 

tity  of  newspapers  from  Geneva.  The  letter  ran  thus : 
(<  I  do  not  know  whether  you  will  be  able  to  rejoice  at  the 
misfortunes  of  your  countrymen  ;  but  as  far  as  we  are  con- 
cerned we  cannot  help  being  delighted  at  the  victory  of 
Europe  over  tyranny.  Bonaparte  has  been  bitterly  pun- 
ished for  his  rash  enterprise ;  he  has  been  entirely  defeated 
and  put  to  flight  at  Quatre  Bras.  He  is  already  at  Paris, 
and  has  no  longer  any  army.  Oceans  of  blood  have  flowed 
on  all  sides,  —  the  French  are  completly  beaten ;  our  own 
son  is  badly  wounded  ;  but  the  world  is  saved.  I  send  you 
all  the  details  in  the  inclosed  packet  of  newspapers ;  send 
them  back  to  us.  *  The  boat  was  moored  to  the  shore ; 
the  morning  breeze  carried  off  the  letter.  I  fell  eagerly  on 
the  papers  which  were  at  my  feet  but  I  could  scarcely  sit 
still  and  read  of  our  disasters.  It  was  impossible  to  rejoice 
at  the  destruction  of  the  whole  French  army  ;  but,  if  Bonaparte 
had  won,  the  cause  of  the  King  would  have  been  lost.  I  was  si- 
lent and  undecided  from  conflicting  emotions.  Finally  I  burst 
into  tears.  Was  it  from  sorrow  as  a  Frenchman,  or  from  joy 
as  a  partisan?  I  could  not  explain  this  even  to  myself. 
Every  one  will  understand  this  conflict  of  feeling  ;  but  no 
one  can  express  it :  my  tears  said  what  words  could  not. 
This  is  the  misfortune  of  the  bad  actions  into  which  the 
ambition  of  one  man  drags  his  country.     .     .     . 


ROMANCE 


SALAMMBO 
Gustave  Flaubert 


(y*s) 


GUSTAVE  FLAUBERT 

The  appearance  of  (<  Madame  Bo  vary  *  in  1857  started 
the  realistic  movement  which  ran  to  the  verge  of  a 
craze.  Its  photographic  fidelity  to  life,  including 
trivial  details  which,  in  less  able  hands,  would  have  over- 
whelmed the  dramatic  interest,  drew  public  attention  to  its 
method  and  tendency.  A  prosecution  was  instituted  but 
failed,  and  the  author  was  justified  in  the  public  eye. 

In  1862  he  issued  the  powerful  romance  of  ancient  Carthage 
which  bears  the  name  of  <(  Salammbo,"  its  heroine.  Flau- 
bert had  qualified  himself  for  the  writing  of  this  remarkable 
work  by  residence  in  Africa  and  long  studies  in  archaeology 
and  history.  It,  too,  is  realistic  in  the  strongest  sense. 
Once  read  it  remains  a  fixed  picture  in  the  memory. 
Flaubert  was  a  favorite  pupil  of  Balzac.  Nothing  is  hur- 
ried or  merely  sketched.  There  is  at  least  the  genius  of 
infinite  painstaking  in  all  his  work,  and  its  impressive 
massiveness  will  insure  its  permanence  among  the  master- 
pieces of  the  century.  Flaubert  was  born  in  1821  and  died 
in  1880. 

(327) 


SALAMMBO 

The  moon  was  rising  just  above  the  waves,  and  on  the 
town  which  was  still  wrapped  in  darkness  there  glit- 
tered white  and  luminous  specks  —  the  pole  of  a 
chariot,  a  dangling  rag  of  linen,  the  corner  of  a  wall,  or  a 
golden  necklace  on  the  bosom  of  a  god.  The  glass  balls 
on  the  roofs  of  the  temple  beamed  like  great  diamonds  here 
and  there.  But  ill-defined  ruins,  piles  of  black  earth,  and 
gardens  formed  deeper  masses  in  the  gloom,  and  below 
Malqua  fishermen's  nets  stretched  from  one  house  to  an- 
other like  gigantic  bats  spreading  their  wings.  The  grind- 
ing of  the  hydraulic  wheels  which  conveyed  water  to  the 
highest  stories  of  the  palaces,  was  no  longer  heard ;  and 
the  camels  lying  ostrich  fashion  on  their  stomachs,  rested 
peacefully  in  the  middle  of  the  terraces.  The  porters  were 
asleep  in  the  streets  on  the  thresholds  of  the  houses  ;  the 
shadows  of  the  colossuses  stretched  across  the  deserted 
squares ;  occasionally  in  the  distance  the  smoke  of  a  still 
burning  sacrifice  would  escape  throtfgh  the  bronze  tiling, 
and  the  heavy  breeze  would  waft  the  odors  of  aromatics 
blended  with  the  scent  of  the  sea  and  the  exhalation  from 
the  sun-heated  walls.  The  motionless  waves  shone  around 
Carthage,  for  the  moon  was  spreading  her  light  at  once 
upon  the  mountain-circled  gulf  and  upon  the  lake  of  Tunis, 
where  flamingoes  formed  long  rose-colored  lines  amid  the 
banks  of  sand,  while  further  on  beneath  the  catacombs  the 
great  salt  lagoon  shimmered  like  a  piece  of  silver.  The 
blue  vault  of  heaven  sank  on  the  horizon  in  one  direction 
into  the  dustiness  of  the  plains,  and  in  the  other  into  the 
mists  of  the  sea,  and  on  the  summit  of  the  Acropolis,  the 
pyramidal  cypress  trees,  fringing  the  temple  of  Eschmoun, 
swayed  murmuring  like  the  regular  waves  that  beat  slowly 
along  the  mole    beneath  the  ramparts. 

(329) 


330  FLAUBERT 

Salammbo  ascended  to  the  terrace  of  her  palace,  supported 
by  a  female  slave  who  carried  an  iron  dish  filled  with  live  coals. 

In  the  middle  of  the  terrace  there  was  a  small  ivory  bed 
covered  with  lynx  skins,  and  cushions  made  with  the 
feathers  of  the  parrot,  a  fatidical  animal  consecrated  to  the 
gods,  and  at  the  four  corners  rose  four  long  perfuming- 
pans  filled  with  nard,  incense,  cinnamomum,  and  myrrh. 
The  slave  lit  the  perfumes.  Salammbo  looked  at  the  polar 
star ;  she  slowly  saluted  the  four  points  of  heaven,  and 
knelt  down  on  the  ground  in  the  azure  dust  which  was 
strewn  with  golden  stars  in  imitation  of  the  firmament. 
Then  with  both  elbows  against  her  sides,  her  fore-arms 
straight  and  her  hands  open,  she  threw  back  her  head 
beneath  the  rays  of  the  moon,  and  said  :  — 

<(  O,  Rabetna  —  Baalet  —  Tanith  !  *  and  her  voice  was 
lengthened  in  a  plaintive  fashion  as  though  to  call  some 
one.  (<  Anaitis  !  Astarte  !  Derceto  !  Astoreth  !  Mylitta  ! 
Athara  !  Elissa  !  Tiratha  !  By  the  hidden  symbols  —  by  the 
resounding  sistra  —  by  the  furrows  of  the  earth  —  by  the 
eternal  silence  and  by  the  eternal  fruitfulness  —  mistress  of 
the  gloomy  sea  and  of  the  azure  shores.  O  !  Queen  of  the 
watery  world,  all  hail !  * 

She  swayed  her  whole  body  twice  or  thrice,  and  then 
cast  herself  face  downward  in  the  dust  with  both  arms 
outstretched. 

But  the  slave  nimbly  raised  her,  for  according  to  the 
rites  some  one  must  catch  the  suppliant  at  the  moment  of 
his  prostration ;  this  told  him  that  the  gods  accepted  him, 
and  Salammbo's  nurse  never  failed  in  this  pious  duty. 

Some  merchants  from  Darytian  Gsetulia  had  brought  her 
to  Carthage  when  quite  young,  and  after  her  enfranchise- 
ment she  would  not  forsake  her  old  masters  as  was  shown 
by  her  right  ear,  which  was  pierced  with  a  large  hole.  A 
petticoat  of  many-colored  stripes  fitted  closely  on  her  hips, 
and  fell  to  her  ankles,  where  two  tin  rings  clashed  to- 
gether. Her  somewhat  flat  face  was  yellow  like  her  tunic. 
Silver  bodkins  of  great  length  formed  a  sun  behind  her 
head.  She  wore  a  coral  button  on  the  nostril,  and  she 
stood  beside  thr  bed  more  erect  than  a  Hermes,  and  with 
her  eyelids  cast  down. 


SALAMMBO  331 

Salammbo  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  terrace ;  her  eyes  swept 
the  horizon  for  an  instant,  and  then  were  lowered  upon 
the  sleeping  town,  while  the  sigh  that  she  heaved  swelled 
her  bosom,  and  gave  an  undulating  movement  to  the  whole 
length  of  the  long  white  simar  which  hung  without  clasp 
or  girdle  about  her.  Her  curved  and  painted  sandals  were 
hidden  beneath  a  heap  of  emeralds,  and  a  net  of  purple 
thread  was  filled  with  her  disordered  hair. 

But  she  raised  her  bead  to  gaze  upon  the  moon,  and 
murmured,  mingling  her  speech  with  fragments   of  hymns : 

"How  lightly  turnest  thou  supported  by  the  impalpable 
ether !  It  brightens  about  thee,  and  'tis  the  stir  of  thine 
agitation  that  distributes  the  winds  and  fruitful  dews.  Ac- 
cording as  thou  dost  wax  and  wane  the  eyes  of  cats  and 
spots  of  panthers  lengthen  or  grow  short.  Wives  shriek 
thy  name  in  the  pangs  of  childbirth !  Thou  makest  the 
shells  to  swell,  the  wine  to  bubble,  and  the  corpse  to 
putrefy !  Thou  formest  the  pearls  at  the  bottom  of  the 
sea  ! 

<(  And  every  germ,  O  Goddess !  ferments  in  the  dark 
depths  of  thy  moisture. 

<(  When  thou  appearest,  quietness  is  spread  abroad  upon 
the  earth ;  the  flowers  close,  the  waves  are  soothed, 
wearied  man  stretches  his  breast  toward  thee,  and  the 
world  with  its  oceans  and  mountains  looks  at  itself  in  thy 
face  as  in  a  mirror.  Thou  art  white,  gentle,  luminous, 
immaculate,  helping,  purifying,  serene  !  * 

The  crescent  of  the  moon  was  then  over  the  mountain 
of  the  Hot  Springs,  in  the  hollow  formed  by  its  two  sum- 
mits, on  the  other  side  of  the  gulf.  Below  it  there  was  a 
little  star,  and  all  around  it  a  pale  circle.  Salammbo 
went  on :  — 

*  But  thou  art  a  terrible  mistress  !  Monsters,  terrifying 
phantoms,  and  lying  dreams  come  from  thee ;  thine  eyes 
devour  the  stones  of  buildings,  and  the  apes  are  ever  ill 
each  time  thou  growest  young  again. 

a  Whither  goest  thou  ?  Why  dost  thou  change  thy  forms 
continually?  Now,  slender  and  curved  thou  glidest  through 
space  like  a  mastless  galley ;  and  then,  amid  the  stars,  thou 
art  like  a  shepherd  keeping  his  flock.     Shining  and  round, 


332  FLAUBERT 

thou    dost    graze    the    mountain-tops    like    the    wheel   of    a 
chariot. 

<(  O,  Tanith  !  thou  dost  love  me  ?  I  have  looked  so  much 
on  thee  !  But  no!  thou  sailest  through  thine  azure,  and 
I  —  I  remain  on  the  motionless  earth. 

*  Taanach,  take  your  nebal  and  play  softly  on  the  silver 
string,  for  my  heart  is  sad  !  * 

The  slave  lifted  a  sort  of  harp  of  ebony  wood,  taller  than 
herself,  and  triangular  in  shape  like  a  delta  ;  she  fixed  the 
point  in  a  crystal  globe,  and  with  both  arms  began  to  play. 

The  sounds  followed  one  another  hurried  and  deep,  like 
the  buzzing  of  bees,  and  with  increasing  sonorousness 
floated  away  into  the  night  with  the  complaining  of  the 
waves,  and  the  rustling  of  the  great  trees  on  the  summit 
of  the  Acropolis. 

<(  Hush !  *  cried  Salammbo. 

(<  What  ails  you,  mistress  ?  The  blowing  of  the  breeze, 
the  passing  of  a  cloud,  everything  disquiets  you  just 
now  !  » 

(<  I  do  not  know,*  she  said. 

*  You  are  wearied  with  too  long  prayers !  * 

li  Oh  !  Taanach,  I  would  fain  be  dissolved  in  them  like  a 
flower  in  wine  !  * 

(<  Perhaps  it  is  the  smoke  of  your  perfumes  ?  * 

*  No  !  *  said  Salammbo  ;  <(  the  spirit  of  the  gods  dwells  in 
fragrant  odors.® 

Then  the  slave  spoke  to  her  of  her  father.  It  was 
thought  that  he  had  gone  toward  the  amber  country, 
behind  the  pillars  of  Melkarth.  wBut  if  he  does  not 
return, >}  she  said,  <(  you  must  nevertheless,  since  it  was  his 
will,  choose  a  husband  among  the  sons  of  the  Ancients,  and 
then  your  grief  will  pass  away  in  a  man's  arms." 

<(  Why  ?  *  asked  the  young  girl.  All  those  that  she  had 
seen  had  horrified  her  with  their  fallow-deer  laughter  and 
their  coarse  limbs. 

<(  Sometimes,  Taanach,  from  the  depths  of  my  being  there 
exhale  as  it  were  hot  fumes  heavier  than  the  vapors  from 
a  volcano.  Voices  call  me,  a  globe  of  fire  rolls  and  mounts 
within  my  bosom,  it  stifles  me,  I  am  at  the  point  of  death  ; 
and  then,   something    sweet,   flowing    from  my   brow  to  my 


SALAMMBO  333 

feet,  passes  through  my  flesh  —  it  is  a  caress  enfolding  me, 
and  I  feel  myself  crushed  as  though  a  god  were  stretched 
upon  me.  Oh !  would  that  I  could  lose  myself  in  the  mists 
of  the  night,  the  waters  of  the  fountains,  the  sap  of  the 
trees,  that  I  could  issue  from  my  body,  and  be  but  a 
breath,  or  a  ray,  and  glide,  mount  up  to  thee,  O, 
Mother  ! » 

She  raised  her  arms  to  their  full  length,  arching  her 
form,  which  in  its  long  garment  was  as  pale  and  light  as 
the  moon.  Then  she  fell  back,  panting  on  the  ivory  couch  ; 
but  Taanach  passed  an  amber  necklace  with  dolphin's 
teeth  about  her  neck  to  banish  terrors,  and  Salammbo 
said  in  an  almost  stifled  voice :  <(  Go  and  bring  me  Scha- 
habarim.  * 

Her  father  had  not  wished  her  to  enter  the  college 
of  priestesses,  nor  even  to  be  made  at  all  acquainted  with 
the  popular  Tanith.  He  was  reserving  her  for  some 
alliance  that  might  serve  his  political  ends ;  so  that 
Salammbo  lived  alone  in  the  midst  of  the  palace.  Her 
mother  was  long  since  dead. 

She  had  grown  up  with  abstinences,  fastings,  and  purifi- 
cations, always  surrounded  by  grave  and  exquisite  things, 
her  body  saturated  with  perfumes,  and  her  soul  filled  with 
prayers.  She  had  never  tasted  wine,  nor  eaten  meat,  nor 
touched  an  unclean  animal,  nor  set  her  heels  in  the  house 
of  death. 

She  knew  nothing  of  obscene  images,  for  as  each  god 
was  manifested  in  different  forms,  the  same  principle  often 
received  the  witness  of  contradictory  cults,  and  Salammbo 
worshiped  the  Goddess  in  her  sidereal  presentation.  An 
influence  had  descended  upon  the  maiden  from  the  moon  ; 
when  the  planet  passed  diminishing  away,  Salammbo  grew 
weak.  She  languished  the  whole  day  long,  and  revived  at 
evening.     During  an  eclipse  she  had  nearly  died. 

But  Rabetna,  in  jealousy,  revenged  herself  for  the  virgin- 
ity withdrawn  from  her  sacrifices,  and  she  tormented  Sa- 
lammbo with  possessions,  all  the  stronger  for  being  vague, 
which  were  spread  through  this  belief  and  excited  by  it. 

Unceasingly  was  Hamilcar's  daughter  disquieted  about 
Tanith.     She   had   learned   her  adventures,  her  travels,  and 


334  .  FLAUBERT 

all  her  names,  which  she  would  repeat  without  their  hav- 
ing any  distinct  signification  for  her.  In  order  to  penetrate 
into  the  depths  of  her  dogma,  she  wished  to  become  ac- 
quainted, in  the  most  secret  part  of  the  temple,  with  the 
old  idol  in  the  magnificent  mantle,  whereon  depended  the 
destinies  of  Carthage,  for  the  idea  of  a  god  did  not  stand 
out  clearly  from  his  representation,  and  to  hold,  or  even 
see  the  image  of  one,  was  to  take  away  part  of  his  virtue, 
and  in  a  measure  to  rule  him. 

But  Salammbo  turned  round.  She  had  recognized  the 
sound  of  the  golden  bells  which  Schahabarim  wore  at  the 
hem  of  his  garment. 

He  ascended  the  staircase  ;  then  at  the  threshold  of  the 
terrace  he  stopped  and  folded  his  arms. 

His  sunken  eyes  shone  like  the  lamps  of  a  sepulchre ; 
his  long  thin  body  floated  in  its  linen  robe  which  was 
weighted  by  the  bells,  the  latter  alternating  with  balls  of 
emeralds  at  his  heels.  He  had  feeble  limbs,  an  oblique 
skull,  and  a  pointed  chin ;  his  skin  seemed  cold  to  the 
touch,  and  his  yellow  face,  which  was  deeply  furrowed  with 
wrinkles,  was  as  though  contracted  in  a  longing,  in  an  ever- 
lasting grief. 

He  was  the  high  priest  of  Tanith,  and  it  was  he  who  had 
educated  Salammbo. 

"Speak!8  he  said.     "What  will  you?* 

*  I  hoped  —  you  had  almost  promised  me  —  *  She  stam- 
mered and  was  confused ;  then  suddenly  :  <(  Why  do  you 
despise  me?  what  have  I  forgotten  in  the  rites?  You  are 
my  master,  and  you  told  me  that  no  one  was  so  accom- 
plished in  the  things  pertaining  to  the  Goddess  as  I ;  but 
there  are  some  of  which  you  will  not  speak.  Is  it  so,  O 
father  ?» 

Schahabarim  remembered  Hamilcar's  orders,   and  replied  : 

<(  No,  I  have  nothing  more  to  teach  you  !  * 

"A  Genius, w  she  resumed,  "impels  me  to  this  love.  I 
have  climbed  the  steps  of  Eschmoun,  god  of  the  planets 
and  intelligences  ;  I  have  slept  beneath  the  golden  olive  of 
Melkarth,  patron  of  the  Tyrian  colonies ;  I  have  pushed 
open  the  doors  of  Baal-Khamon,  the  enlightener  and  fer- 
tilizer ;  I  have  sacrificed  to  the   subterranean  Kabiri,  to  the 


SALAMMBO  335 

gods  of  woods,  winds,  rivers,  and  mountains ;  but,  can  you 
understand?  they  are  all  too  far  away,  too  high,  too  insen- 
sible, while  she  —  I  feel  her  mingled  in  my  life  ;  she  fills 
my  soul,  and  I  quiver  with  inward  startings,  as  though  she 
were  leaping  in  order  to  escape.  Methinks  I  am  about  to 
hear  her  voice,  and  see  her  face,  lightnings  dazzle  me  and 
then  I  sink  again  into  the  darkness.* 

Schahabarim  was  silent.  She  entreated  him  with  sup- 
pfiant  looks.  At  last  he  made  a  sign  for  the  dismissal  of 
the  slave,  who  was  not  of  Chanaanitish  race.  Taanach  dis- 
appeared and,  Schahabarim,  raising  one  arm  in  the  air, 
began  :  — 

<(  Before  the  gods  darkness  alone  was,  and  a  breathing 
stirred  dull  and  indistinct  as  the  conscience  of  a  man  in  a 
dream.  It  contracted,  creating  Desire  and  Cloud,  and  from 
Desire  and  Cloud  there  issued  primitive  Matter.  This  was 
a  water,  muddy,  black,  icy,  and  deep.  It  contained  senseless 
monsters,  incoherent  portions  of  the  forms  to  be  born, 
which  are  painted  on  the  walls  of  the  sanctuaries. 

<(  Then  Matter  condensed.  It  became  an  egg.  It  burst. 
One  half  formed  the  earth  and  the  other  the  firmament. 
Sun,  moon,  winds,  and  clouds  appeared,  and  at  the  crash  of 
the  thunder  intelligent  creatures  awoke.  Then  Eschmoun 
spread  himself  in  the  starry  sphere ;  Khamon  beamed  in 
the  sun ;  Melkarth  thrust  him  with  his  arms  behind  Gades ; 
the  Kabiri  descended  beneath  the  volcanoes,  and  Rabetna 
like  a  nurse  bent  over  the  world  pouring  out  her  light  like 
milk,  and  her  night  like  a  mantle. }) 

(<  And  then  8  she  said. 

He  had  related  the  secret  of  the  origins  to  her,  to  divert 
her  from  sublimer  prospects  ;  but  the  maiden's  desire  kindled 
again  at  his  last  words,  and  Schahabarim,  half  yielding  re- 
sumed :  — 

(<She  inspires  and  governs  the  loves  of  men.8 

<(  The  loves  of  men  !  *  repeated   Salammbo  dreamily. 

(<She  is  the  soul  of  Carthage, B  continued  the  priest; 
uand  although  she  is  everywhere  diffused,  it  is  here  that 
she  dwells,  beneath  the  sacred  veil.* 

«  O  father  !  »  cried  Salammbo,  (<  I  shall  see  her,  shall  I 
not  ?  you  will  bring  me  to  her  !     I  had  long  been  hesitating  ; 


336  FLAUBERT 

I  am  devoured  with  curiosity  to  see  her  form.  Pity  !  help 
me !  let  us  go?® 

He  repulsed  her  with  a  vehement  gesture  that  was  full 
of  pride. 

<(  Never  !  Do  you  not  know  that  it  means  death  ?  The 
hermaphrodite  Baals  are  unveiled  to  us  alone  who  are  men 
in  understanding  and  women  in  weakness.  Your  desire 
is  sacrilege  ;  be  satisfied  with  the  knowledge  that  you  pos- 
sess !  * 

She  fell  upon  her  knees  placing  two  fingers  against  her 
ears  in  token  of  repentance ;  and  crushed  by  the  priest's 
words,  and  filled  at  once  with  anger  against  him,  with 
terror  and  with  humiliation,  she  burst  into  sobs.  Schaha- 
barim  remained  erect,  and  more  insensible  than  the  stones 
of  the  terrace.  He  looked  down  upon  her  quivering  at  his 
feet,  and  felt  a  kind  of  joy  on  seeing  her  suffer  for  his 
divinity  whom  he  himself  could  not  wholly  embrace.  The 
birds  were  already  singing,  a  cold  wind  was  blowing,  and 
little  clouds  were  drifting  in  the  paling  sky. 

Suddenly  he  perceived  on  the  horizon,  behind  Tunis, 
what  looked  like  slight  mists  trailing  along  the  ground ; 
then  these  became  a  great  curtain  of  dust  extending  per- 
pendicularly, and,  amid  the  whirlwinds  of  the  thronging 
mass,  dromedaries'  heads,  lances,  and  shields  appeared.  It 
was  the  army  of  the  Barbarians  advancing  upon  Carthage. 


BATTLE  OF  THE  MACARAS 

Then    Hamilcar    grew    extraordinarily    pale,    and    those 
who  were  leaning  over    the   pit  outside  saw  him  rest- 
ing one   hand   against   the  wall   to  keep  himself  from 
falling. 

But  the  jackal  uttered  its  cry  three  times  in  succession. 
Hamilcar  raised  his  head ;  he  did  not  speak  a  word  nor 
make  a  gesture.  Then  when  the  sun  had  completely  set 
he  disappeared  behind  the  nopal  hedge,  and  in  the  evening 
he  said  as  he  entered  the  assembly  of  the  Rich  in  the 
temple  of  Eschmoun  :  — 


SALAMMBO  337 

"Luminaries  of  the  Baalim,  I  accept  the  command  of  the 
Punic  forces  against  the  army  of  the  Barbarians !  • 

On  the  following  day  he  drew  two  hundred  and  twenty- 
three  thousand  kikars  of  gold  from  the  Syssitia,  and  de- 
creed a  tax  of  fourteen  shekels  upon  the  Rich.  Even  the 
women  contributed ;  payment  was  made  on  behalf  of  the 
children,  and  he  compelled  the  colleges  of  priests  to  fur- 
nish money  —  a  monstrous  thing  according  to  Carthaginian 
customs, 

He  demanded  all  the  horses,  mules,  and  arms.  A  few 
tried  to  conceal  their  wealth,  and  their  property  was  sold ; 
and,  to  intimidate  the  avarice  of  the  rest,  he  himself  gave 
sixty  suits  of  armor,  and  fifteen  hundred  gomers  of  meal, 
which  was  as  much  as  was  given  by  the  Ivory  Company. 

He  sent  into  Liguria  to  buy  soldiers,  three  thousand 
mountaineers  accustomed  to  fight  with  bears ;  they  were 
paid  for  six  moons  in  advance  at  the  rate  of  four  minae  a 
day. 

Nevertheless  an  army  was  wanted.  But  he  did  not,  like 
Hanno,  accept  all  the  citizens.  First  he  rejected  those  en- 
gaged in  sedentary  occupations,  and  then  those  who  were 
big-bellied  or  had  a  pusillanimous  look ;  and  he  admitted 
those  of  ill-repute,  the  scum  of  Malqua,  sons  of  Barbarians, 
freedmen.  For  reward  he  promised  some  of  the  New  Car- 
thaginians complete  rights  of  citizenship. 

His  first  care  was  to  reform  the  Legion.  These  hand- 
some young  fellows,  who  regarded  themselves  as  the  military 
majesty  of  the  Republic,  governed  themselves.  He  re- 
duced their  officers  to  the  ranks ;  he  treated  them  harshly, 
made  them  run,  leap,  ascend  the  declivity  of  the  Byrsa  at 
a  single  burst,  hurl  javelins,  wrestle  together,  and  sleep  in 
the  squares  at  night.  Their  families  used  to  come  to  see 
them  and  pity  them. 

He  ordered  shorter  swords  and  stronger  buskins.  He 
fixed  the  number  of  serving-men,  and  reduced  the  amount 
of  baggage  and  as  there  were  three  hundred  Roman  pila  kept 
in  the  temple  of  Moloch,  he  took  them  in  spite  of  the 
pontiff's  protests. 

He  organized  a  phalanx  of  seventy-two  elephants  with  those 
who  had  returned  from  Utica,  and  others  which  were  private 


338  FLAUBERT 

property  and  rendered  them  formidable.  He  armed  their 
drivers  with  mallet  and  chisel  to  enable  them  to  split  their 
skulls  in  the  fight  if  they  ran  away. 

He  would  not  allow  his  generals  to  be  nominated  by  the 
Grand  Council.  The  Ancients  tried  to  urge  the  laws  in 
objection,  but  he  set  them  aside ;  no  one  ventured  to  mur- 
mur again,  and  everything  yielded  to  the  violence  of  his 
genius. 

He  assumed  sole  charge  of  the  war,  the  government,  and 
the  finances ;  and  as  a  precaution  against  accusations,  he 
demanded  the  Suffet  Hanno  as  examiner  of  his  accounts. 

He  set  to  work  upon  the  ramparts,  and  had  the  old  and 
now  useless  inner  walls  demolished  in  order  to  furnish 
stones.  But  difference  of  fortune,  replacing  the  hier- 
archy of  race,  still  kept  the  sons  of  the  vanquished  and 
those  of  the  conquerors  apart ;  thus  the  patricians  viewed 
the  destruction  of  these  ruins  with  an  angry  eye,  while  the 
plebeians,  scarcely  knowing  why,  rejoiced. 

The  troops  defiled  under  arms  through  the  streets  from 
morning  till  night ;  every  moment  the  sound  of  trumpets 
was  heard  ;  chariots  passed  bearing  shields,  tents,  and 
pikes ;  the  courts  were  full  of  women  engaged  in  tearing 
up  linen ;  the  enthusiasm  spread  from  one  to  another,  and 
Hamilcar's  soul  filled  the  Republic. 

He  had  divided  his  soldiers  into  even  numbers,  being 
careful  to  place  a  strong  man  and  a  weak  one  alternately 
throughout  the  length  of  his  files,  so  that  he  who  was  less 
vigorous  or  more  cowardly  might  be  at  once  led  and  pushed 
forward  by  two  others.  But  with  his  three  thousand  Ligu- 
rians,  and  the  best  in  Carthage,  he  could  form  only  a 
simple  phalanx  of  four  thousand  and  ninety-six  hoplites, 
protected  by  bronze  helmets,  and  handling  ashen  sarissse 
fourteen  cubits  long. 

There  were  two  thousand  young  men,  each  equipped  with 
a  sling,  a  dagger,  and  sandals.  He  reinforced  them  with 
eight  hundred  others  armed  with  round  shields  and  Roman 
swords. 

The  heavy  cavalry  was  composed  of  the  nineteen  hun- 
dred remaining  guardsmen  of  the  Legion,  covered  with  plates 
of  vermilion  bronze,  like  the  Assyrian  Clinabarians.     He  had 


SALAMMBO  339 

further  four  hundred  mounted  archers,  of  those  that  were 
called  Tarentines,  with  caps  of  weasel's  skin,  two-edged 
axes,  and  leathern  tunics.  Finally  there  were  twelve  hun- 
dred Negroes  from  the  quarter  of  the  caravans,  who  were 
mingled  with  the  Clinabarians,  and  were  to  run  beside  the 
stallions  with  one  hand  resting  on  the  manes.  All  was 
ready,  and  yet  Hamilcar  did  not  start. 

Often  at  night  he  would  go  out  of  Carthage  alone  and 
make  his  way  beyond  the  lagoon  toward  the  mouths  of  the 
Macaras.  Did  he  intend  to  join  the  Mercenaries?  The 
Ligurians  encamped  in  the  Mappalian  district  surrounding 
his  house. 

The  apprehensions  of  the  Rich  appeared  justified  when, 
one  day,  three  hundred  Barbarians  were  seen  approaching 
the  walls.  The  Suffet  opened  the  gates  to  them ;  they 
were  deserters ;  drawn  by  fear  or  by  fidelity  they  were 
hastening  to  their  master. 

Hamilcar's  return  had  not  surprised  the  Mercenaries ;  ac- 
cording to  their  ideas  the  man  could  not  die.  He  was 
returning  to  fulfill  his  promise  ;  a  hope  by  no  means  absurd, 
so  deep  was  the  abyss  between  Country  and  Army.  More- 
over they  did  not  believe  themselves  culpable ;  the  feast 
was  forgotten. 

The  spies  whom  they  surprised  undeceived  them.  It 
was  a  triumph  for  the  bitter ;  even  the  lukewarm  grew 
furious.  Then  the  two  sieges  overwhelmed  them  with 
weariness  ;  no  progress  was  being  made ;  a  battle  would  be 
better  !  Thus  many  men  had  left  the  ranks  and  were 
scouring  the  country.  But  at  news  of  the  arming  they  re- 
turned ;  Matho  leaped  for  joy.  (<  At  last  !  at  last !  *  he 
cried. 

Then  the  resentment  which  he  cherished  against  Sa- 
lammbo  was  turned  against  Hamilcar.  His  hate  could  now 
perceive  a  definite  prey  ;  and  as  his  vengeance  grew  easier 
of  conception  he  almost  believed  that  he  had  realized  it 
and  he  reveled  in  it  already.  At  the  same  time  he  was 
seized  with  a  loftier  tenderness,  and  consumed  by  more 
acrid  desire.  He  saw  himself  alternately  in  the  midst  of 
the  soldiers  brandishing  the  Suffet's  head  on  a  pike,  and 
then  in  the  room  with  the  purple  bed,  clasping  the  maiden 


340  FLAUBERT 

in  his  arms,  covering  her  face  with  kisses,  passing  his 
hands  over  her  long,  black  hair  ;  and  the  imagination  of 
this,  which  he  knew  could  never  be  realized,  tortured  him. 
He  swore  to  himself  that,  since  his  companions  had  ap- 
pointed him  schalishim,  he  would  conduct  the  war ;  the 
certainty  that  he  would  not  return  from  it  urged  him  to 
render  it  a  pitiless  one  :  — 

He  came  to  Spendius  and  said  to  him  :  — 

*  You  will  go  and  get  your  men  !  I  will  bring  mine ! 
Warn  Autaritus !  We  are  lost  if  Hamilcar  attacks  us.  Do 
you  understand  me  ?     Rise  !  * 

Spendius  was  stupefied  before  such  an  air  of  authority. 
Matho  usually  allowed  himself  to  be  led,  and  his  previous 
transports  had  quickly  passed  away.  But  just  now  he  ap- 
peared at  once  calmer  and  more  terrible ;  a  superb  will 
gleamed  in  his  eyes  like  the  flame  of  a  sacrifice. 

The  Greek  did  not  listen  to  his  reasons.  He  was  living 
in  one  of  the  Carthaginian  pearl-bordered  tents,  drinking 
cool  beverages  from  silver  cups,  playing  at  the  cottabos, 
letting  his  hair  grow,  and  conducting  the  siege  with  slack- 
ness. Moreover,  he  had  entered  into  communications  with 
some  in  the  town  and  would  not  leave,  being  sure  that  it 
would  open  its  gates  before  many  days  were  over. 

Narr'  Havas,  who  wandered  about  among  the  three 
armies,  was  at  that  time  with  him.  He  supported  his 
opinion,  and  even  blamed  the  Libyan  for  wishing  in  his 
excess  of  courage  to  abandon  their  enterprise. 

<(  Go,  if  you  are  afraid  !  *  exclaimed  Matho ;  (<  you  prom- 
ised us  pitch,  sulphur,  elephants,  foot-soldiers,  horses ! 
where  are  they?8 

Narr'  Havas  reminded  him  that  he  had  exterminated 
Hanno's  last  cohorts  —  as  to  the  elephants,  they  were  being 
hunted  in  the  woods,  he  was  arming  the  foot-soldiers,  the 
horses  were  on  their  way  ;  and  the  Numidian  rolled  his 
eyes  like  a  woman  and  smiled  in  an  irritating  manner,  as 
he  stroked  the  ostrich  feather  which  fell  upon  his  shoulder. 
In  his  presence  Matho  was  at  a  loss  for  a  reply. 

But  a  man  who  was  a  stranger  entered,  wet  with  per- 
spiration, scared,  and  with  bleeding  feet  and  loosened  gir- 
dle ;  his  breathing  shook  his  lean  sides  enough  to  have  burst 


SALAMMBO  341 

them,  and  speaking  in  an  unintelligible  dialect  he  opened 
his  eyes  wide  as  though  he  were  telling  of  some  battle. 
The  king  sprang  outside  and  called  his  horsemen. 

They  ranged  themselves  in  the  plain  before  him  in  the 
form  of  a  circle.  Narr'  Havas,  who  was  mounted,  bent 
his  head  and  bit  his  lips.  At  last  he  separated  his  men 
into  two  equal  divisions,  and  told  the  first  to  wait  ;  then 
with  an  imperious  gesture  he  carried  off  the  others  at  a 
gallop  and  disappeared  on  the  horizon  in  the  direction  of 
the  mountains. 

*  Master ! 8  murmured  Spendius,  (<  I  do  not  like  these 
extraordinary  chances  —  the  Suffet  returning.  Narr'  Havas 
going  away * 

<(  Why  !  what  does  it  matter  ?  *    said  Matho   disdainfully. 

It  was  a  reason  the  more  for  anticipating  Hamilcar  by 
uniting  with  Autaritus.  But  if  the  siege  of  the  towns 
were  raised,  the  inhabitants  would  come  out  and  attack 
them  in  the  rear,  while  they  would  have  the  Carthaginians 
in  front.  After  much  talking  the  following  measures  were 
resolved  upon  and  immediately  executed. 

Spendius  proceeded  with  fifteen  thousand  men  as  far  as 
the  bridge  built  across  the  Macaras,  three  miles  from  Utica  ; 
the  corners  of  it  were  fortified  with  four  huge  towers  pro- 
vided with  catapults  ;  all  the  paths  and  gorges  in  the  moun- 
tains were  stopped  up  with  trunks  of  trees,  pieces  of  rock, 
interlacings  of  thorn,  and  stone  walls ;  on  the  summits 
heaps  of  grass  were  made  which  might  be  lighted  as  signals, 
and  shepherds  who  were  able  to  see  at  a  distance  were 
posted  at  intervals. 

No  doubt  Hamilcar  would  not,  like  Hanno,  advance  by 
the  mountain  of  the  Hot  Springs.  He  would  think  that 
Autaritus,  being  master  of  the  interior,  would  close  the 
route  against  him.  Moreover,  a  check  at  the  opening  of 
the  campaign  would  ruin  him,  while  if  he  gained  a  victory 
he  would  soon  have  to  make  a  fresh  beginning,  the  Merce- 
naries being  further  off.  Again,  he  could  disembark  at 
Cape  Grapes  and  march  thence  upon  one  of  the  towns. 
But  he  would  then  find  himself  between  the  two  armies,  an 
indiscretion  which  he  could  not  commit  with  his  scanty 
forces.     Accordingly    he    must    proceed    along    the    base    of 


342  FLAUBERT 

Mount  Ariana,  then  turn  to  the  left  to  avoid  the  mouths 
of  the  Macaras,  and  come  straight  to  the  bridge.  It  was 
there  that  Matho  expected  him. 

At  night  he  used  to  inspect  the  pioneers  by  torchlight. 
He  would  hasten  to  Hippo-Zarytus  or  to  the  works  on  the 
mountains,  would  come  back  again,  would  never  rest. 
Spendius  envied  his  energy ;  but  in  the  management  of 
spies,  the  choice  of  sentries,  the  working  of  the  engines 
and  all  means  of  defense,  Matho  listened  docilely  to  his 
companion.  They  spoke  no  more  of  Salammbo  —  one  not 
thinking  about  her,  and  the  other  being  prevented  by  a 
feeling  of  shame. 

Often  he  would  go  toward  Carthage,  striving  to  catch 
sight  of  Hamilcar's  troops.  His  eyes  would  dart  along  the 
horizon ;  he  would  lie  flat  on  the  ground,  and  believe  that 
he  could  hear  an  army  in  the  throbbing  of  his  arteries. 

He  told  Spendius  that  if  Hamilcar  did  not  arrive  within 
three  days  he  would  go  with  all  his  men  to  meet  him  and 
offer  him  battle.  Two  further  days  elapsed.  Spendius  re- 
strained him ;  but  on  the  morning  of  the  sixth  day  he 
departed. 

The  Carthaginians  were  no  less  impatient  for  war  than 
the  Barbarians.  In  tents  and  in  houses  there  was  the  same 
longing  and  the  same  distress ;  all  were  asking  one  another 
what  was  delaying  Hamilcar. 

From  time  to  time  he  would  mount  to  the  cupola  of  the 
temple  of  Eschmoun  beside  the  Announcer  of  the  Moons 
and  take  note  of  the  wind. 

One  day  —  it  was  the  third  of  the  month  of  Tibby  — 
they  saw  him  descending  from  the  Acropolis  with  hurried 
steps.  A  great  clamor  arose  in  the  Mappalian  district. 
Soon  the  streets  were  astir,  and  the  soldiers  were  every- 
where beginning  to  arm  surrounded  by  weeping  women  who 
threw  themselves  upon  their  breasts  ;  then  they  ran  quickly 
to  the  square  of  Khamon  to  take  their  places  in  the  ranks. 
No  one  was  allowed  to  follow  them  or  even  to  speak  to 
them,  or  to  approach  the  ramparts  ;  for  some  minutes  the 
whole  town  was  as  silent  as  a  great  tomb.  The  soldiers  as 
they  leaned  on  their  lances  were  thinking,  and  the  others 
in  the  houses  were  sighing. 


SALAMMBO  343 

At  sunset  the  army  went  out  by  the  western  gate ;  but 
instead  of  taking  the  road  to  Tunis  or  making  for  the 
mountains  in  the  direction  of  Utica,  they  continued  their 
march  along  the  edge  of  the  sea ;  and  they  soon  reached 
the  Lagoon,  where  round  spaces  quite  whitened  with  salt 
glittered   like   gigantic  silver  dishes  forgotten  on  the  shore. 

Then  the  pools  of  water  multiplied.  The  ground  gradu- 
ally became  softer,  and  the  feet  sank  in  it.  Hamilcar  did 
not  turn  back.  He  went  on  still  at  their  head  ;  and  his 
horse,  which  was  yellow-spotted  like  a  dragon,  advanced 
into  the  mire  flinging  froth  around  him,  and  with  great 
straining  of  the  loins.  Night  —  a  moonless  night — fell. 
A  few  cried  out  that  they  were  going  to  perish  ;  he  snatched 
their  arms  from  them,  and  gave  them  to  the  serving-men. 
Nevertheless  the  mud  became  deeper  and  deeper.  Some  had 
to  mount  the  beasts  of  burden  ;  others  clung  to  the  horses' 
tails  ;  the  sturdy  pulled  the  weak,  and  the  Ligurian  corps 
drove  on  the  infantry  with  the  points  of  their  pikes.  The 
darkness  increased.     They  had  lost  their  way.     All  stopped. 

Then  some  of  the  Suffet's  slaves  went  on  ahead  to  look 
for  the  buoys  which  had  been  placed  at  intervals  by  his 
order.  They  shouted  through  the  darkness,  and  the  army 
followed  them  at  a  distance. 

At  last  they  felt  the  resistance  of  the  ground.  Then  a 
whitish  curve  became  dimly  visible,  and  they  found  them- 
selves on  the  banks  of  the  Macaras.  In  spite  of  the  cold 
no  fires  were  lighted. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  squalls  of  wind  arose.  Hamil- 
car had  the  soldiers  aroused,  but  not  a  trumpet  was  sounded : 
their  captains  tapped  them  softly  on  the  shoulder. 

A  man  of  lofty  stature  went  down  into  the  water.  It 
did  not  come  up  to  his  girdle ;  it  was  possible  to  cross. 

The  Suffet  ordered  thirty-two  of  the  elephants  to  be 
posted  in  the  river  a  hundred  paces  further  on,  while  the 
others,  lower  down,  would  check  the  lines  of  men  that 
were  carried  away  by  the  current ;  and  holding  their  wea- 
pons above  their  heads  they  all  crossed  the  Macaras  as 
though  between  two  walls.  He  had  noticed  that  the  west- 
ern wind  had  driven  the  sand  so  as  to  obstruct  the  river 
and  form  a  natural  causeway  across  it. 


344  FLAUBERT 

He  was  now  on  the  left  bank  in  front  of  Utica,  and  in  a 
vast  plain,  the  latter  being  advantageous  for  his  elephants, 
which  formed  the  strength  of  his  army. 

This  feat  of  genius  filled  the  soldiers  with  enthusiasm. 
They  recovered  extraordinary  confidence.  They  wished  to 
hasten  immediately  against  the  Barbarians;  but  the  Suffet 
made  them  rest  for  two  hours.  As  soon  as  the  sun  ap- 
peared they  moved  into  the  plain  in  three  lines  —  first  came 
the  elephants,  and  then  the  light  infantry,  with  the  cavalry 
behind  it,  the  phalanx  marching  next. 

The  Barbarians  encamped  at  Utica,  and  the  fifteen  thou- 
sand about  the  bridge  were  surprised  to  see  the  ground 
undulating  in  the  distance.  The  wind,  which  was  blowing 
very  hard,  was  driving  tornadoes  of  sand  before  it ;  they 
rose  as  though  snatched  from  the  soil,  ascended  in  great 
light-colored  strips,  then  parted  asunder  and  began  again, 
hiding  the  Punic  army  the  while  from  the  Mercenaries. 
Owing  to  the  horns  which  stood  up  on  the  edge  of  the 
helmets,  some  thought  that  they  could  perceive  a  herd  of 
oxen  ;  others,  deceived  by  the  motion  of  the  cloaks,  pre- 
tended that  they  could  distinguish  wings,  and  those  who 
had  traveled  a  good  deal  shrugged  their  shoulders  and 
explained  everything  by  the  illusions  of  the  mirage.  Never- 
theless something  of  enormous  size  continued  to  advance. 
Little  vapors,  as  subtle  as  the  breath,  ran  across  the  sur- 
face of  the  desert ;  the  sun,  which  was  higher  now,  shone 
more  strongly  ;  a  harsh  light,  which  seemed  to  vibrate,  threw 
back  the  depths  of  the  sky,  and,  permeating  objects,  ren- 
dered distance  incalculable.  The  immense  plain  expanded 
in  every  direction  beyond  the  limits  of  vision ;  and  the 
almost  insensible  undulations  of  the  soil  extended  to  the 
extreme  horizon,  which  was  closed  by  a  great  blue  line 
which  they  knew  to  be  the  sea.  The  two  armies,  having 
left  their  tents,  stood  gazing ;  the  people  of  Utica  were 
massing  on  the  ramparts  to  have  a  better  view.  At  last 
they  distinguished  several  tranverse  bars  bristling  with  level 
points.  They  became  thicker,  larger  ;  black  hillocks  swaj'ed 
to  and  fro  ;  square  thickets  suddenly  appeared  ;  they  were 
elephants  and  lances.  A  single  shout  went  up :  <(  The 
Carthaginians  !  •    and    without   signal  or   command    the  sol- 


SALAMMBO  345 

diers  at  Utica  and  those  at  the  bridge  ran  pell-mell  to  fall 
in  a  body  upon  Hamilcar. 

Spendius  shuddered  at  the  name.  (<  Hamilcar !  Hamil- 
car I*  he  repeated,  panting,  and  Matho  was  not  there  ! 
What  was  to  be  done  ?  No  means  of  flight !  The  sudden- 
ness of  the  event,  his  terror  of  the  Suffet,  and  above  all, 
the  urgent  need  of  forming  an  immediate  resolution,  dis- 
tracted him ;  he  could  see  himself  pierced  by  a  thousand 
swords,  decapitated,  dead.  Meanwhile  he  was  being  called 
for  ;  thirty  thousand  men  would  follow  him  ;  he  was  seized 
with  fury  against  himself ;  he  fell  back  upon  the  hope  of 
victory  ;  it  was  full  of  bliss,  and  he  believed  himself  more 
intrepid  than  Epaminondas.  He  smeared  his  cheeks  with 
vermilion  in  order  to  conceal  his  paleness,  then  he  buckled 
on  his  knemids  and  his  cuirass,  swallowed  a  patera  of  pure 
wine,  and  ran  after  his  troops,  who  were  hastening  toward 
those  from  Utica. 

They  united  so  rapidly  that  the  Suffet  had  not  time  to  draw 
up  his  men  in  battle  array.  By  degrees  he  slackened  his 
speed.  The  elephants  stopped  ;  they  rocked  their  heavy 
heads  with  their  chargings  of  ostrich  feathers,  striking  their 
shoulders  the  while  with  their  trunks. 

Behind  the  intervals  between  them  might  be  seen  the 
cohorts  of  the  velites,  and  further  on  the  great  helmets  of 
the  Clinabarians,  with  steel  heads  glancing  in  the  sun, 
cuirasses,  plumes,  and  waving  standards.  But  the  Car- 
thaginian army,  which  amounted  to  eleven  thousand  three 
hundred  and  ninety-six  men,  seemed  scarcely  to  contain 
them,  for  it  formed  an  oblong,  narrow  at  the  sides  and 
pressed  back  upon  itself. 

Seeing  them  so  weak,  the  Barbarians,  who  were  thrice  as 
numerous,  were  seized  with  extravagant  joy.  Hamilcar  was 
not  to  be  seen.  Perhaps  he  had  remained  down  yonder? 
Moreover  what  did  it  matter?  The  disdain  which  they  felt 
for  these  traders  strengthened  their  courage  ;  and  before 
Spendius  could  command  a  manoeuver  they  had  all  under- 
stood it,  and  already  executed  it. 

They  deployed  in  a  long,  straight  line,  overlapping  the 
wings  of  the  Punic  army  in  order  to  completely  encompass 
it.     But  when  there  was  an  interval  of  only  three  hundred 


346  FLAUBERT 

paces  between  the  armies,  the  elephants  turned  round  in- 
stead of  advancing  ;  then  the  Clinabarians  were  seen  to  face 
about  and  follow  them  ;  and  the  surprise  of  the  Mercenaries 
increased  when  they  saw  the  archers  running  to  join  them, 
So  the  Carthaginians  were  afraid,  they  were  fleeing  !  A 
tremendous  hooting  broke  out  from  among  the  Barbarian 
troops,  and  Spendius  exclaimed  from  the  top  of  his  drom- 
edary :     <(  Ah  !  I  knew  it !     Forward  !  forward  I  * 

Then  the  javelins,  darts,  and  sling-bullets  burst  forth 
simultaneously.  The  elephants  feeling  their  croups  stung 
by  the  arrows  began  to  gallop  more  quickly  ;  a  great  dust 
enveloped  them,  and  they  vanished  like  shadows  in  a 
cloud. 

But  from  the  distance  there  came  a  loud  noise  of  foot- 
steps dominated  by  the  shrill  sound  of  the  trumpets,  which 
were  being  blown  furiously.  The  space  which  the  Barba- 
rians had  in  front  of  them,  and  which  was  full  of  eddies 
and  tumult,  attracted  like  a  whirlpool;  some  dashed  into 
it.  Cohorts  of  infantry  appeared ;  they  closed  up ;  and  at 
the  same  time  all  the  rest  saw  the  foot-soldiers  hastening 
up  with  the  horsemen  at  a  gallop. 

Hamilcar  had,  in  fact,  ordered  the  phalanx  to  break  its 
sections,  and  the  elephants,  light  troops,  and  cavalry  to 
pass  through  the  intervals  so  as  to  bring  themselves  speed- 
ily upon  the  wings,  and  so  well  had  he  calculated  the  dis- 
tance from  the  Barbarians,  that  at  the  moment  when  they 
reached  him,  the  entire  Carthaginian  army  formed  one  long 
straight  line. 

In  the  centre  bristled  the  phalanx,  formed  of  syntagmata 
or  full  squares  having  sixteen  men  on  each  side.  All  the 
leaders  of  all  the  files  appeared  amid  long,  sharp  lance- 
heads,  which  jutted  out  unevenly  around  them,  for  the  six 
first  ranks  crossed  their  sarissae,  holding  them  in  the 
middle,  and  the  ten  lower  ranks  rested  them  upon  the 
shoulders  of  their  companions  in  succession  before  them. 
Their  faces  were  all  half  hidden  beneath  the  visors  of  their 
helmets ;  their  right  legs  were  all  covered  with  bronze  kne- 
mids  ;  broad  cylindrical  shields  reached  down  to  their  knees ; 
and  the  horrible  quadrangular  mass  moved  in  a  single  body, 
and  seemed  to  live  like  an  animal  and  work  like  a  machine. 


SALAMMBO  347 

Two  cohorts  of  elephants  flanked  it  in  regular  array ; 
quivering,  they  shook  off  the  splinters  of  the  arrows  that 
clung  to  their  black  skins.  The  Indians,  squatting  on  their 
withers  among  the  tufts  of  white  feathers,  restrained  them 
with  their  spoon-headed  harpoons,  while  the  men  in  the 
towers,  who  were  hidden  up  to  their  shoulders,  moved 
about  iron  distaffs  furnished  with  lighted  tow  on  the  edges 
of  their  large  bended  bows.  Right  and  left  of  the  elephants 
hovered  the  slingers,  each  with  a  sling  around  his  loins,  a 
second  on  his  head,  and  a  third  in  his  right  hand.  Then 
came  the  Clinabarians,  each  flanked  by  a  negro,  and  point- 
ing their  lances  between  the  ears  of  their  horses,  which, 
like  themselves,  were  completely  covered  with  gold.  After- 
ward, at  intervals,  came  the  light-armed  soldiers  with 
shields  of  lynx  skin,  beyond  which  projected  the  points  of 
the  javelins  which  they  held  in  their  left  hands  ;  while  the 
Tarentines,  each  having  two  coupled  horses,  relieved  this 
wall  of  soldiers  at  its  two  extremities. 

The  army  of  the  Barbarians,  on  the  contrary  had  not 
been  able  to  preserve  its  line.  Undulations  and  blanks 
were  to  be  found  through  its  extravagant  length ;  all  were 
panting  and  out  of  breath  with  their  running.  The  phalanx 
moved  heavily  along  with  thrusts  from  all  its  sarissae;  and 
the  too  slender  line  of  the  Mercenaries  soon  yielded  in  the 
centre  beneath  the  enormous  weight. 

Then  the  Carthaginian  wings  expanded  in  order  to  fall 
upon  them,  the  elephants  following.  The  phalanx,  with 
obliquely  pointed  lances,  cut  through  the  Barbarians;  there 
were  two  enormous,  struggling  bodies ;  and  the  wings  with 
slings  and  arrows  beat  them  back  upon  the  phalangites. 
There  was  no  cavalry  to  get  rid  of  them,  except  two  hun- 
dred Numidians  operating  against  the  right  squadron  of 
the  Clinabarians.  All  the  rest  were  hemmed  in,  and  un- 
able to  extricate  themselves  from  the  lines.  The  peril  was 
imminent,  and  the  need  of  coming  to  some  resolution 
urgent. 

Spendius  ordered  attacks  to  be  made  simultaneously  on 
both  flanks  of  the  phalanx  so  as  to  pass  clean  through  it. 
But  the  narrower  ranks  glided  below  the  longer  ones 
and  recovered  their  position,  and    the   phalanx  turned  upon 


348  FLAUBERT 

the  Barbarians  as  terrible  in  flank  as  it  had  just  been  in 
front. 

They  struck  at  the  staves  of  the  sarissae,  but  the  cavalry 
in  the  rear  embarrassed  their  attack  ;  and  the  phalanx,  sup- 
ported by  the  elephants,  lengthened  and  contracted,  pre- 
senting itself  in  the  form  of  a  square,  a  cone,  a  rhombus, 
a  trapezium,  a  pyramid.  A  twofold  internal  movement  went 
on  continually  from  its  head  to  its  rear ;  for  those  who 
were  at  the  lowest  part  of  the  files  hastened  up  to  the  first 
ranks,  while  the  latter,  from  fatigue,  or  on  account  of  the 
wounded,  fell  further  back.  The  Barbarians  found  them- 
selves thronged  upon  the  phalanx.  It  was  impossible 
for  it  to  advance ;  there  was,  as  it  were,  an  ocean  wherein 
leaped  red  crests  and  scales  of  brass,  while  the  bright 
shields  rolled  like  silver  foam.  Sometimes  broad  currents 
would  descend  from  one  extremity  to  the  other,  and  then 
go  up  again,  while  a  heavy  mass  remained  motionless  in 
the  centre.  The  lances  dipped  and  rose  alternately.  Else- 
where there  was  so  quick  a  play  of  naked  swords  that  only 
the  points  were  visible,  while  turmse  of  cavalry  formed  wide 
circles  which  closed  again  like  whirlwinds  behind  them. 

Above  the  voices  of  the  captains,  the  ringing  of  clarions 
and  the  grating  of  lyres,  bullets  of  lead  and  almonds  of 
clay  whistled  through  the  air,  dashing  the  sword  from  the 
hand  or  the  brain  out  of  the  skull.  The  wounded,  shelter- 
ing themselves  with  one  arm  beneath  their  shields,  pointed 
their  swords  by  resting  the  pommels  upon  the  ground, 
while  others,  lying  in  pools  of  blood,  would  turn  and  bite 
the  heels  of  those  above  them.  The  multitude  was  so  com- 
pact, the  dust  so  thick,  and  the  tumult  so  great  that  it  was 
impossible  to  distinguish  anything  ;  the  cowards  who  offered 
to  surrender  were  not  even  heard.  Those  whose  hands  were 
empty  clasped  one  another  close  ;  breasts  cracked  against 
cuirasses,  and  corpses  hung  with  head  thrown  back  between 
a  pair  of  contracted  arms.  There  was  a  company  of  sixty 
Umbrians  who,  firm  on  their  hams,  their  pikes  before  their 
eyes,  immovable  and  grinding  their  teeth,  forced  two  syn- 
tagmata to  recoil  simultaneously.  Some  Epirote  shepherds 
ran  upon  the  left  squadron  of  the  Clinabarians  and,  whirl- 
ing their   staves,  seized    the    horses  by    the   mane ;  the  ani- 


SALAMMBO  349 

mals  threw  their  riders  and  fled  across  the  plain.  The 
Punic  slingers  scattered  here  and  there  stood  gaping.  The 
phalanx  began  to  waver,  the  captains  run  to  and  fro  in 
distraction,  the  rearmost  in  the  files  were  pressing  upon 
the  soldiers,  and  the  Barbarians  had  re-formed  ;  they  were 
recovering  ;  the  victory  was  theirs. 

But  a  cry,  a  terrible  cry  broke  forth,  a  roar  of  pain  and 
wrath :  it  came  from  the  seventy-two  elephants  which  were 
rushing  on  in  double  line.  Hamilcar  having  waited  until  the 
Mercenaries  were  massed  together  in  one  spot  to  let  them 
loose  against  them  ;  the  Indians  had  goaded  them  so  vigor- 
ously that  blood  was  trickling  down  their  broad  ears.  Their 
trunks,  which  were  smeared  with  minium,  were  stretched 
straight  out  in  the  air  like  red  serpents ;  their  breasts  were 
furnished  with  spears  and  their  backs  with  cuirasses  ;  their 
tusks  were  lengthened  with  steel  blades  curved  like  sabres 
—  and  to  make  them  more  ferocious  they  had  been  intoxi- 
cated with  a  mixture  of  pepper,  wine,  and  incense.  They 
shook  their  necklaces  of  bells  and  shrieked ;  and  the  ele- 
phantarchs  bent  their  heads  beneath  the  stream  of  phala- 
ricas  which  was  beginning  to  fly  from  the  tops  of  the 
towers. 

In  order  to  resist  them  the  better  the  Barbarians  rushed 
forward  in  a  compact  crowd  ;  the  elephants  flung  themselves 
impetuously  upon  the  centre  of  it.  The  spurs  on  their 
breasts,  like  ships'  prows,  clove  through  the  cohorts  which 
flowed  surging  back.  They  stifled  the  men  with  their 
trunks,  or  else  snatching  them  up  from  the  ground  delivered 
them  over  their  heads  to  the  soldiers  in  the  towers  ;  with 
their  tusks  they  disemboweled  them,  and  hurled  them  into 
the  air,  and  long  entrails  hung  from  their  ivory  fangs  like 
bundles  of  ropes  from  a  mast.  The  Barbarians  strove  to 
blind  them,  to  hamstring  them  ;  others  would  slip  beneath 
their  bodies,  bury  a  sword  in  them  up  to  the  hilt,  and  per- 
ish crushed  to  death ;  the  most  intrepid  clung  to  their 
straps ;  they  would  go  on  sawing  the  leather  amid  flames, 
bullets,  and  arrows,  and  the  wicker  tower  would  fall  like  a 
tower  of  stone.  Fourteen  of  the  animals  on  the  extreme 
right,  irritated  by  their  wounds,  turned  upon  the  second 
rank  ;  the  Indians  seized  mallet  and  chisel,  applied  the  latter 


350  FLAUBERT 

to  a  joint  in  the  head,  and  with  all   their   might  struck    a 
great  blow. 

Down  sank  the  huge  beasts,  falling  one  above  another. 
It  was  like  a  mountain ;  and  upon  the  heap  of  dead 
bodies  and  armor  a  monstrous  elephant,  called  "The  Fury 
of  Baal,8  which  had  been  caught  by  the  leg  in  some 
chains,  stood  howling  until  the  evening  with  an  arrow  in 
its  eye. 

The  others,  however,  like  conquerors  delighting  in  exter- 
mination, overthrew,  crushed,  stamped,  and  raged  against 
the  corpses  and  the  dibris.  To  repel  the  maniples  in  ser- 
ried circles  around  them,  they  turned  about  on  their  hind 
feet  as  they  advanced,  with  a  continual  rotatory  motion. 
The  Carthaginians  felt  their  energy  increase,  and  the  battle 
began  again. 

The  Barbarians  were  growing  weak ;  some  Greek  hop- 
lites  threw  away  their  arms,  and  terror  seized  upon  the  rest. 
Spendius  was  seen  stooping  upon  his  dromedary,  and  spur- 
ring it  on  the  shoulders  with  two  javelins.  Then  they  all 
rushed  away  from  the  wings  and  ran  toward  Utica. 

The  Clinabarians,  whose  horses  were  exhausted,  did  not 
try  to  overtake  them.  The  Ligurians,  who  were  weakened 
by  thirst,  cried  out  for  an  advance  toward  the  river.  But 
the  Carthaginians,  who  were  posted  in  the  centre  of  the 
syntagmata,  and  had  suffered  less,  stamped  their  feet  with 
longing  for  the  vengeance  which  was  flying  from  them  ;  and 
they  were  already  darting  forward  in  pursuit  of  the  Mer- 
cenaries when  Hamilcar  appeared. 

He  held  in  his  spotted  and  sweat-covered  horse  with  sil- 
ver reins.  The  bands  fastened  to  the  horns  on  his  helmet 
flapped  in  the  wind  behind  him,  and  he  had  placed  his  oval 
shield  beneath  his  left  thigh.  With  a  motion  of  his  triple- 
pointed  pike  he  checked  the  army. 

The  Tarentines  leaped  quickly  upon  their  spare  horses, 
and  set  off  right  and  left  toward  the  river  and  toward  the 
town. 

The  phalanx  exterminated  all  the  remaining  Barbarians 
at  leisure.  When  the  swords  appeared  they  would  stretch 
out  their  throats  and  close  their  eyelids.  Others  defended 
themselves  to  the  last,  and  were  knocked  down  from  a  dis- 


SALAMMBO  351 

tance  with  flints  like  mad  dogs.  Hamilcar  had  desired  the 
taking  of  prisoners,  but  the  Carthaginians  obeyed  him 
grudgingly,  so  much  pleasure  did  they  derive  from  plung- 
ing their  swords  into  the  bodies  of  the  Barbarians.  As 
they  were  too  hot  they  set  about  their  work  with  bare 
arms  like  mowers  ;  and  when  they  desisted  to  take  breath 
they  would  follow  with  their  eyes  a  horseman  galloping 
across  the  country  after  a  fleeing  soldier.  He  would  suc- 
ceed in  seizing  him  by  the  hair,  hold  him  thus  for  a  while, 
and  then  fell  him  with  a  blow  of  his  axe. 

Night  fell.  Carthaginians  and  Barbarians  had  disap- 
peared. The  elephants  which  had  taken  to  flight  roamed 
in  the  horizon  with  their  fired  towers.  These  burned  here 
and  there  in  the  darkness  like  beacons  half  lost  in  the 
mist ;  and  no  movement  could  be  discerned  in  the  plain 
save  the  undulation  of  the  river,  which  was  heaped  with 
corpses  and  was  drifting  them  away  to  the  sea. 

Two  hours  afterward  Matho  arrived.  He  caught  sight  in 
the  starlight  of  long,  uneven  heaps  lying  upon  the  ground. 

They  were  files  of  Barbarians.  He  stooped  down ;  all 
were  dead.  He  called  into  the  distance,  but  no  voice 
replied. 

That  very  morning  he  had  left  Hippo-Zarytus  with  his 
soldiers  to  march  upon  Carthage.  At  Utica  the  army  under 
Spendius  had  just  set  out,  and  the  inhabitants  were  begin- 
ning to  fire  the  engines.  All  had  fought  desperately.  But, 
the  tumult  which  was  going  on  in  the  direction  of  the 
bridge  increasing  in  an  incomprehensible  fashion.  Matho 
had  struck  across  the  mountain  by  the  shortest  road,  and 
as  the  Barbarians  were  fleeing  over  the  plain  he  had  en- 
countered nobody. 

Facing  him  were  little  pyramidal  masses  rearing  them- 
selves in  the  shade,  and  on  this  side  of  the  river  and  closer 
to  him  were  motionless  lights  on  the  surface  of  the  ground. 
In  fact  the  Carthaginians  had  fallen  back  behind  the  bridge, 
and  to  deceive  the  Barbarians,  the  Suffet  had  stationed 
numerous  posts  upon  the  other  bank. 

Matho,  still  advancing,  thought  that  he  could  distinguish 
Punic  ensigns,  for  horses'  heads  which  did  not  stir  appeared 
in  the  air   fixed    upon    the    tops    of    piles   of    staves   which 


352  FLAUBERT 

could  not  be  seen  ;  and  further  off  he  could  hear  a  great 
clamor,  a  noise  of  songs,  and  clashing  of  cups. 

Then,  not  knowing  where  he  was  nor  how  to  find  Spen- 
dius,  assailed  with  anguish,  scared,  and  lost  in  the  dark- 
ness, he  returned  more  impetuously  by  the  same  road. 
The  dawn  was  growing  gray  when  from  the  top  of  the 
mountain  he  perceived  the  town  with  the  carcasses  of  the 
engines  blackened  by  the  flames  and  looking  like  giant 
skeletons  leaning  against  the  walls. 

All  was  peaceful  amid  extraordinary  silence  and  heaviness. 
Among  his  soldiers  on  the  verge  of  the  tents  men  were 
sleeping  nearly  naked,  each  upon  his  back,  or  with  his 
forehead  against  his  arm  which  was  supported  by  his 
cuirass.  Some  were  unwinding  blood-stained  bandages 
from  their  legs.  Those  who  were  going  to  die  rolled  their 
heads  about  gently  ;  others  dragged  themselves  along  and 
brought  them  drink.  The  sentries  walked  up  and  down 
along  the  narrow  paths  in  order  to  warm  themselves,  or 
stood  in  a  fierce  attitude  with  their  faces  turned  toward  the 
horizon,  and  their  pikes  on  their  shoulders.  Matho  found 
Spendius  sheltered  beneath  a  rag  of  canvas,  supported  by 
two  sticks  set  in  the  ground,  his  knee  in  his  hands  and 
his  head  cast  down. 

They  remained  for  a  long  time  without  speaking. 

At  last  Matho  murmured  :     <(  Conquered  !  * 

Spendius  rejoined  in  a  gloomy  voice :    (<  Yes,  conquered  !  * 

And  to  all  questions  he  replied   by  gestures  of  despair. 

Meanwhile  sighs  and  death-rattles  reached  them.  Matho 
partially  opened  the  canvas.  Then  the  sight  of  the  soldiers 
reminded  him  of  another  disaster  on  the  same  spot,  and  he 
ground  his  teeth  :     (<  Wretch  !  once  already ■ 

Spendius  interrupted  him  :  w  You  were  not  there 
either. » 

(<  It  is  a  curse  !  *  exclaimed  Matho.  *  Nevertheless,  in 
the  end  I  will   get    at   him  !     I  will   conquer    him  !     I   will 

slay  him  !     Ah  !  if  I  had  been  there w     The  thought  of 

having  missed  the  battle  rendered  him  even  more  desperate 
than  the  defeat.  He  snatched  up  his  sword  and  threw  it 
upon    the   ground.      <(  But   how  did    the    Carthaginians  beat 


you 


?» 


SALAMMBO  353 

The  former  slave  began  to  describe  the  manceuvers. 
Matho  seemed  to  see  them,  and  he  grew  angry.  The  army 
from  Utica  ought  to  have  taken  Hamilcar  in  the  rear  in- 
stead of  hastening  to  the  bridge. 

<(  Ah  !  I  know  !  *  said  Spendius. 

•  You  ought  to  have  made  your  ranks  twice  as  deep, 
avoided  exposing  the  velites  against  the  phalanx,  and 
given  free  passage  to  the  elephants.  Everything  might 
have  been  recovered  at  the  last  moment;  there  was  no 
necessity  to  fly." 

Spendius  replied :  — 

(<  I  saw  him  pass  along  in  his  large  red  cloak,  with  up- 
lifted arms  and  higher  than  the  dust,  like  an  eagle  flying 
upon  the  flank  of  the  cohorts ;  and  at  every  nod  they 
closed  up  or  darted  forward  ;  the  throng  carried  us  toward 
each  other  ;  he  looked  at  me,  and  I  felt  the  cold  steel,  as 
it  were,    in  my  heart.  * 

<(  He  selected  the  day,  perhaps?  *  whispered  Matho  to  himself. 

They  questioned  each  other,  trying  to  discover  what  it 
was  that  had  brought  the  Suffet  just  when  circumstances 
were  most  unfavorable.  They  went  on  to  talk  over  the 
situation,  and  Spendius,  to  extenuate  his  fault  or  to  re- 
vive his  courage,  asserted  that  some  hope  still  remained. 

<(  And  if  there  be  none,  it  matters  not !  *  said  Matho ; 
<(  alone,  I  will  carry  on  the  war  !  * 

<(And  I  too !  *  exclaimed  the  Greek,  leaping  up;  he 
strode  to  and  fro,  his  eyes  sparkling,  and  a  strange  smile 
wrinkling  his  jackal  face. 

(<  We  will  make  a  fresh  start ;  do  not  leave  me  again  ! 
I  am  not  made  for  battles  in  the  sunlight  —  the  flashing  of 
the  swords  troubles  my  sight ;  it  is  a  disease,  I  lived  too 
long  in  the  ergastulum.  But  give  me  walls  to  scale  at 
night,  and  I  will  enter  the  citadels,  and  the  corpses  shall 
be  cold  before  cock-crow !  Show  me  any  one,  anything,  an 
enemy,  a  treasure,  a  woman  —  a  woman,*  he  repeated, 
"were  she  a  king's  daughter,  and  I  will  quickly  bring 
your  desire  to  your  feet.  You  reproach  me  for  having  lost 
the  battle  against  Hanno,  nevertheless  I  won  it  back  again. 
Confess  it  !  my  herd  of  swine  did  more  for  us  than  a  pha- 
lanx of  Spartans.0 
23 


354  FLAUBERT 

And  yielding  to  the  need  that  he  felt  of  exalting  himself 
and  taking  his  revenge,  he  enumerated  all  that  he  had  done 
for  the  cause  of  the  Mercenaries.  (<  It  was  I  who  urged  on 
the  Gaul  in  the  Suffet's  gardens  !  Later  on,  at  Sicca,  I  mad- 
dened them  all  with  fear  of  the  Republic  !  Gisco  was  send- 
ing them  back,  but  I  prevented  the  interpreters  speaking. 
Ah  !  how  their  tongues  hung  out  of  their  mouths  !  do  you 
remember  ?  I  brought  you  into  Carthage ;  I  stole  the 
zaimph.  I  led  you  to  her.  I  will  do  more  yet :  you  shall 
see  !  *     He  burst  out  laughing  like  a  madman. 

Matho  regarded  him  with  gaping  eyes.  He  felt  in  a 
measure  uncomfortable  in  the  presence  of  this  man,  who 
was  at  once  so  cowardly  and  so  terrible. 

The  Greek  resumed  in  jovial  tones  and  cracking  his 
fingers  :  — 

<(  Evoe  !  Sun  after  rain  !  I  have  worked  in  the  quarries, 
and  I  have  drunk  Massic  wine  beneath  a  golden  awning  in 
a  vessel  of  my  own  like  a  Ptolemaeus.  Calamity  should 
help  to  make  us  cleverer.  By  dint  of  work  we  may  make 
fortune  bend.     She  loves  politicians.     She  will  yield  I  * 

He  returned  to  Matho  and  took  him  by  the  arm. 

<(  Master,  at  present  the  Carthaginians  are  sure  of  their 
victory.  You  have  quite  an  army  which  has  not  fought, 
and  your  men  obey  you.  Place  them  in  the  front ;  mine 
will  follow  to  avenge  themselves.  I  have  still  three  thou- 
sand Carians,  twelve  hundred  slingers  and  archers,  whole 
cohorts !  A  phalanx  even  might  be  formed ;  let  us  re- 
turn ! » 

Matho,  who  had  been  stunned  by  the  disaster,  had 
hitherto  thought  of  no  means  of  repairing  it.  He  listened 
with  open  mouth,  and  the  bronze  plates  which  circled  his 
sides  rose  with  the  leapings  of  his  heart. 

He  picked  up  his  sword,  crying :  — 

8  Follow  me  ;  forward  !  * 

But  when  the  scouts  returned,  they  announced  that  the 
Carthaginian  dead  had  been  carried  off,  that  the  bridge  was 
in  ruins,  and  that  Hamilcar  had  disappeared. 

Hamilcar  had  thought  that  the  Mercenaries  would  await 
him  at  Utica,  or  that  they  would  return  against  him  ;  and 
finding  his  forces  insufficient  to  make  or  sustain  an   attack, 


SALAMMBO  355 

he  had  struck  southward  along  the  right  bank  of  the  river, 
thus  protecting  himself  immediately  from  a  surprise. 

He  intended  first  to  wink  at  the  revolt  of  the  tribes  and 
to  detach  them  all  from  the  cause  of  the  Barbarians  ;  then 
when  they  were  quite  isolated  in  the  midst  of  the  prov- 
inces he  would  fall  upon  them  and  exterminate  them. 

In  fourteen  days  he  pacified  the  region  comprised  between 
Thouccaber  and  Utica,  with  the  towns  of  Tignicabah,  Tes- 
sourah,  Vacca  and  others  further  to  the  west.  Zounghar 
built  in  the  mountains,  Assouras  celebrated  for  its  temple, 
Djeraado  fertile  in  junipers,  Thapitis,  and  Hagour  sent 
embassies  to  him.  The  country  people  came  with  their 
hands  full  of  provisions,  implored  his  protection,  kissed  his 
feet  and  those  of  the  soldiers,  and  complained  of  the  Bar- 
barians. Some  came  to  offer  him  bags  containing  heads  of 
Mercenaries  slain,  so  they  said,  by  themselves,  but  which 
they  had  cut  off  corpses ;  for  many  had  lost  themselves  in 
their  flight,  and  were  found  dead  here  and  there  beneath 
the  olive  trees  and  among  the  vines. 

On  the  morrow  of  his  victory,  Hamilcar,  to  dazzle  the 
people,  had  sent  to  Carthage  the  two  thousand  captives 
taken  on  the  battlefield.  They  arrived  in  long  companies 
of  one  hundred  men  each,  all  with  their  arms  fastened 
behind  their  backs  with  a  bar  of  bronze  which  caught 
them  at  the  nape  of  the  neck,  and  the  wounded,  bleeding 
as  they  still  were,  running  also  along ;  horsemen  followed 
them,  driving  them  on  with  blows  of  the  whip. 

Then  there  was  a  delirium  of  joy!  People  repeated  that 
there  were  six  thousand  Barbarians  killed  ;  the  others  would 
not  hold  out,  and  the  war  was  finished ;  they  embraced  one 
another  in  the  streets,  and  rubbed  the  faces  of  the  Pataec 
gods  with  butter  and  cinnamomum  to  thank  them.  These, 
with  their  big  eyes,  their  big  bodies,  and  their  arms  raised 
as  high  as  the  shoulder,  seemed  to  live  beneath  their  fresh- 
ened paint,  and  to  participate  in  the  cheerfulness  of  the 
people.  The  Rich  left  their  doors  open  ;  the  city  resounded 
with  the  noise  of  the  timbrels  ;  the  temples  were  illumi- 
nated every  night,  and  the  servants  of  the  goddess  went 
down  to  Malqua  and  set  up  stages  of  sycamore-wood  at  the 
corners  of  the  cross-ways,  and  prostituted  themselves  there. 


356  FLAUBERT 

Lands  were  voted  to  the  conquerors,  holocausts  to  Mel- 
karth,  three  hundred  gold  crowns  to  the  Suffet,  and  his 
partisans  proposed  to  decree  to  him  new  prerogatives  and 
honors. 

He  had  begged  the  Ancients  to  make  overtures  to  Auta- 
ritus  for  exchanging  all  the  Barbarians,  if  necessary,  for 
the  aged  Gisco,  and  the  other  Carthaginians  detained  like 
him.  The  Libyans  and  Nomads  composing  the  army  under 
Autaritus  knew  scarcely  anything  of  these  Mercenaries,  who 
were  men  of  Italiote  or  Greek  race ;  and  the  offer  by  the 
Republic  of  so  many  Barbarians  for  so  few  Carthaginians, 
showed  that  the  value  of  the  former  was  nothing  and  that 
of  the  latter  considerable.  They  dreaded  a  snare.  Auta- 
ritus refused. 

Then  the  Ancients  decreed  the  execution  of  the  captives, 
although  the  Suffet  had  written  to  them  not  to  put  them 
to  death.  He  reckoned  upon  incorporating  the  best  of  them 
with  his  own  troops  and  of  thus  instigating  defections.  But 
hatred  swept  away  all  circumspection. 

The  two  thousand  Barbarians  were  tied  to  the  stelae  of 
the  tombs  in  the  Mappalian  quarter ;  and  traders,  scullions, 
embroiderers,  and  even  women  —  the  widows  of  the  dead 
with  their  children  —  all  who  would,  came  to  kill  them  with 
arrows.  They  aimed  slowly  at  them,  the  better  to  prolong 
their  torture,  lowering  the  weapon  and  then  raising  it  in 
turn  ;  and  the  multitude  pressed  forward  howling.  Paralyt- 
ics had  themselves  brought  thither  in  hand-barrows ;  many 
took  the  precaution  of  bringing  their  food,  and  remained 
on  the  spot  until  the  evening ;  others  passed  the  night 
there.  Tents  had  been  set  up  in  which  drinking  went  on. 
Many  gained  large  sums  by  hiring  out  bows. 

Then  all  these  crucified  corpses  were  left  upright,  looking 
like  so  many  red  statues  on  the  tombs,  and  the  excitement 
even  spread  to  the  people  of  Malqua,  who  were  the  descen- 
dants of  the  aboriginal  families,  and  were  usually  indifferent 
to  the  affairs  of  their  country.  Out  of  gratitude  for  the 
pleasure  it  had  been  giving  them  they  now  interested  them- 
selves in  its  fortunes,  and  felt  that  they  were  Carthagin- 
ians, and  the  Ancients  thought  it  a  clever  thing  to  have 
thus  blended  the  entire  people  in  a  single  act  of  vengeance. 


SALAMMBO  357 

The  sanction  of  the  gods  was  not  wanting ;  for  crows 
alighted  from  all  quarters  of  the  sky.  They  wheeled  in 
the  air  as  they  flew  with  loud  hoarse  cries,  and  formed  a 
huge  cloud  rolling  continually  upon  itself.  It  was  seen 
from  Clypea,  Rhades,  and  the  promontory  of  Hermseum. 
Sometimes  it  would  suddenly  burst  asunder,  its  black 
spirals  extending  far  away,  as  an  eagle  clove  the  centre  of 
it,  and  then  departed  again ;  here  and  there  on  the  ter- 
races, the  domes,  the  peaks  of  the  obelisks,  and  the  pedi- 
ments of  the  temples  there  were  big  birds  holding  human 
fragments  in  their  reddened  beaks. 

Owing  to  the  smell  the  Carthaginians  resigned  themselves 
to  unbind  the  corpses.  A  few  of  them  were  burned  ;  the 
rest  were  thrown  into  the  sea,  and  the  waves,  driven  by 
the  north  wind,  deposited  them  on  the  shore  at  the  end  of 
the  gulf  before  the  camp  of  Autaritus. 

This  punishment  had  no  doubt  terrified  the  Barbarians, 
for  from  the  top  of  Eschmoun  they  could  be  seen  striking 
their  tents,  collecting  their  flocks,  and  hoisting  their  bag- 
gage upon  asses,  and  on  the  evening  of  the  same  day  the 
entire  army  withdrew. 

It  was  to  march  to  and  fro  between  the  mountains  of 
the  Hot  Springs  and  Hippo-Zarytus,  and  so  debar  the 
Suffet  from  approaching  the  Tyrian  towns,  and  from  the 
possibility  of  a  return  to  Carthage. 

Meanwhile  the  two  other  armies  were  to  try  to  overtake 
him  in  the  south,  Spendius  in  the  east,  and  Matho  in  the 
west,  in  such  a  way  that  all  three  should  unite  to  surprise 
and  entangle  him.  Then  they  received  a  reinforcement 
which  they  had  not  looked  for:  Narr'  Havas  reappeared 
with  three  hundred  camels  laden  with  bitumen,  twenty-five 
elephants,  and  six  thousand  horsemen. 

To  weaken  the  Mercenaries  the  Suffet  had  judged  it 
prudent  to  occupy  his  attention  at  a  distance  in  his  own 
kingdom.  From  the  heart  of  Carthage  he  had  come  to  an 
understanding  with  Masgaba,  a  Gsetulian  brigand  who  was 
seeking  to  found  an  empire.  Strengthened  by  Punic 
money,  the  adventurer  had  raised  the  Numidian  States  with 
promises  of  freedom.  But  Narr'  Havas,  warned  by  his 
nurse's    son,  had    dropped    into    Cirta,    poisoned    the    con- 


358  FLAUBERT 

querors  with  the  water  of  the  cisterns,  struck  off  a  few 
heads,  set  all  right  again,  and  had  just  arrived  against  the 
Suffet  more  furious  than  the  Barbarians. 

The  chiefs  of  the  four  armies  concerted  the  arrangements 
for  the  war.  It  would  be  a  long  one,  and  everything  must 
be  foreseen. 

It  was  agreed  first  to  entreat  the  assistance  of  the 
Romans,  and  this  mission  was  offered  to  Spendius,  but  as 
a  fugitive  he  dared  not  undertake  it.  Twelve  men  from 
the  Greek  colonies  embarked  at  Annaba  in  a  sloop  belong- 
ing to  the  Numidians.  Then  the  chiefs  exacted  an  oath  of 
complete  obedience  from  all  the  Barbarians.  Every  day  the 
captains  inspected  clothes  and  boots ;  the  sentries  were  even 
forbidden  to  use  a  shield,  for  they  would  often  lean  it 
against  their  lance  and  fall  asleep  as  they  stood ;  those  who 
had  any  baggage  trailing  after  them  were  obliged  to  get 
rid  of  it ;  everything  was  to  be  carried,  in  Roman  fashion, 
on  the  back.  As  a  precaution  against  the  elephants  Matho 
instituted  a  corps  of  cataphract  cavalry,  men  and  horses 
being  hidden  beneath  cuirasses  of  hippopotamus  skin  brist- 
ling with  nails ;  and  to  protect  the  horses'  hoofs  boots  of 
plaited  esparto  grass  were  made  for  them. 

It  was  forbidden  to  pillage  the  villages,  or  to  tyrannize 
over  the  inhabitants  who  were  not  of  Punic  race.  But  as 
the  country  was  becoming  exhausted,  Matho  ordered  the 
provisions  to  be  served  out  to  the  soldiers  individually, 
without  troubling  about  the  women.  At  first  the  men  shared 
with  them.  Many  grew  weak  for  lack  of  food.  It  was  the 
occasion  of  incessant  quarrels  and  invectives,  many  drawing 
away  the  companions  of  the  rest  by  the  bait  or  even  by 
the  promise  of  their  own  portion.  Matho  commanded  them 
all  to  be  driven  away  pitilessly.  They  took  refuge  in  the 
camp  of  Autaritus ;  but  the  Gaulish  and  Libyan  women 
forced  them  by  their  outrageous  treatment  to  depart. 

At  last  they  came  beneath  the  walls  of  Carthage  to  im- 
plore the  protection  of  Ceres  and  Proserpine,  for  in  Byrsa 
there  was  a  temple  with  priests  consecrated  to  these  god- 
desses in  expiation  of  the  horrors  formerly  committed  at 
the  siege  of  Syracuse.  The  Syssitia,  alleging  their  right  to 
waifs    and    strays,    claimed    the    youngest   in   order   to   sell 


SALAMMBO  359 

them  ;  and  some  fair  L,acedaemonian  women  were  taken  by 
New  Carthaginians  in  marriage. 

A  few  persisted  in  following  the  armies.  They  ran  on 
the  flank  of  the  syntagmata  by  the  side  of  the  captains. 
They  called  to  their  husbands,  pulled  them  by  the  cloak, 
cursed  them  as  they  beat  their  breasts,  and  held  out  their 
little  naked  and  weeping  children  at  arm's  length.  The 
sight  of  them  was  unmanning  the  Barbarians  ;  they  were 
an  embarrassment  and  a  peril.  Several  times  they  were  re- 
pulsed, but  they  came  back  again ;  Matho  made  the  horse- 
men belonging  to  Narr'  Havas  charge  them  with  the  point 
of  the  lance ;  and  on  some  Balearians  shouting  out  to  him 
that  they  must   have  women,  he    replied:  iC  I  have   none!" 

Just  now  he  was  invaded  by  the  Genius  of  Moloch.  In 
spite  of  the  rebellion  of  his  conscience,  he  performed  terrible 
deeds,  imagining  that  he  was  thus  obeying  the  voice  of  a 
god.  When  he  could  not  ravage  the  fields,  Matho  would 
cast  stones  into  them  to  render  them  sterile. 

He  urged  Autaritus  and  Spendius  with  repeated  messages 
to  make  haste.  But  the  Suffet's  operations  were  incompre- 
hensible. He  encamped  at  Eidous,  Monchar,  and  Tehent 
successively ;  some  scouts  believed  that  they  saw  him  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Ischiil,  near  the  frontiers  of  Narr'  Havas, 
and  it  was  reported  that  he  had  crossed  the  river  above 
Tebourba  as  though  to  return  to  Carthage.  Scarcely  was 
he  in  one  place  when  he  removed  to  another.  The  routes 
that  he  followed  always  remained  unknown.  The  Suffet 
preserved  his  advantages  without  offering  battle,  and  while 
pursued  by  the  Barbarians  seemed  to  be  leading  them. 

These  marches  and  counter  marches  were  still  more  fa- 
tiguing to  the  Carthaginians;  and  Hamilcar's  forces,  receiv- 
ing no  reinforcements,  diminished  from  day  to  day.  The 
country  people  were  now  more  backward  in  bringing  him 
in  provisions.  In  every  direction  he  encountered  taciturn 
hesitation  and  hatred  ;  and  in  spite  of  his  entreaties  to  the 
Great  Council  no  succor  came  from  Carthage. 

It  was  said  perhaps  it  was  believed,  that  he  had  need  of 
none.  It  was  a  trick,  or  his  complaints  were  unnecessary  ; 
and  Hanno's  partisans,  in  order  to  do  him  an  ill  turn,  ex- 
aggerated the  importance  of  his  victory.     The  troops  which 


360  FLAUBERT 

he  commanded  he  was  welcome  to ;  but  they  were  not  going 
to  supply  all  his  demands  continually  in  that  way.  The 
war  was  quite  burdensome  enough  ;  it  had  cost  too  much, 
and  from  pride  the  patricians  belonging  to  his  faction  sup- 
ported him  but  slackly. 

Then  Hamilcar,  despairing  of  the  Republic,  took  by  force 
from  the  tribes  all  that  he  wanted  for  the  war  —  grain, 
oil,  wood,  cattle,  and  men.  But  the  inhabitants  were  not 
long  in  taking  to  flight.  The  villages  passed  through  were 
empty,  and  the  cabins  were  ransacked  without  anything 
being  discerned  in  them.  The  Punic  army  was  soon  en- 
compassed by  a  terrible  solitude. 

The  Carthaginians,  who  were  furious,  began  to  sack  the 
provinces;  they  filled  up  the  cisterns  and  fired  the  houses. 
The  sparks,  being  carried  by  the  wind,  were  scattered  far 
off,  and  whole  forests  were  on  fire  on  the  mountains ;  they 
bordered  the  valleys  with  a  crown  of  flames,  and  it  was 
often  necessary  to  wait  in  order  to  pass  beyond  them. 
Then  the  soldiers  resumed  their  march  over  the  warm  ashes 
in  the  full  glare  of  the  sun. 

Sometimes  they  would  see  what  looked  like  the  eyes  of 
a  tiger  cat  gleaming  in  a  bush  by  the  side  of  the  road. 
This  was  a  Barbarian  crouching  upon  his  heels,  and 
smeared  with  dust,  that  he  might  not  be  distinguished 
from  the  color  of  the  foliage ;  or  perhaps  when  passing 
along  a  ravine  those  on  the  wings  would  suddenly  hear  the 
rolling  of  stones,  and  raising  their  eyes  would  perceive  a 
bare-footed  man  bounding  along  through  the  opening  of  the 
gorge. 

Meanwhile,  Utica  and  Hippo-Zarytus  were  free  since  the 
Mercenaries  were  no  longer  besieging  them.  Hamilcar  com- 
manded them  to  come  to  his  assistance.  But  not  caring  to 
compromise  themselves,  they  answered  him  with  vague 
words,  with  compliments,  and  excuses. 

He  went  up  again  abruptly  into  the  North,  determined  to 
open  up  one  of  the  Tyrian  towns,  though  he  were  obliged 
to  lay  siege  to  it.  He  required  a  station  on  the  coast,  so 
as  to  be  able  to  draw  supplies  and  men  from  the  islands 
or  from  Cyrene,  and  he  coveted  the  harbor  of  Utica  as 
being  the  nearest  to  Carthage. 


SALAMMBO  361 

The  Suffet  therefore  left  Zouitin  and  turned  the  lake 
of  Hippo-Zarytus  with  circumspection.  But  he  was  soon 
obliged  to  lengthen  out  his  regiments  into  columns  in  order 
to  climb  the  mountain  which  separates  the  two  valleys. 
They  were  descending  at  sunset  into  its  hollow,  funnel- 
shaped  summit,  when  they  perceived  on  the  level  of  the 
ground  before  them  bronze  she-wolves  which  seemed  to  be 
running  across  the  grass. 

Suddenly  large  plumes  arose  and  a  terrible  song  burst 
forth,  accompanied  by  the  rhythm  of  flutes.  It  was  the 
army  under  Spendius ;  for  some  Campanians  and  Greeks, 
in  their  execration  of  Carthage,  had  assumed  the  ensigns 
of  Rome.  At  the  same  time  long  pikes,  shields  of 
leopard's  skin,  linen  cuirasses,  and  naked  shoulders  were 
seen  on  the  left.  These  were  the  Iberians  under  Matho, 
the  Lusitanians,  Balearians,  and  Gsetulians ;  the  horses  of 
Narr'  Havas  were  heard  to  neigh;  they  spread  around  the 
hill ;  then  came  the  loose  rabble  commanded  by  Autaritus 
—  Gauls,  Libyans,  and  Nomads ;  while  the  Eaters  of  Un- 
cleanness  might  be  recognized  among  them  by  the  fish 
bones  which  they  wore  in  their  hair. 

Thus  the  Barbarians,  having  contrived  their  marches 
with  exactness,  had  come  together  again.  But  themselves 
surprised  they  remained  motionless  for  some  minutes  in 
consultation. 

The  Suffet  had  collected  his  men  into  an  orbicular  mass, 
in  such  a  way  as  to  offer  an  equal  resistance  in  every  di- 
rection. The  infantry  were  surrounded  by  their  tall,  pointed 
shields  fixed  close  to  one  another  in  the  turf.  The  Clina- 
barians  were  outside  and  the  elephants  at  intervals  further 
off.  The  Mercenaries  were  worn  out  with  fatigue ;  it  was 
better  to  wait  till  next  day  ;  and  the  Barbarians,  feeling 
sure  of  their  victory,  occupied  themselves  the  whole  night 
in  eating. 

They  had  lit  large  bright  fires,  which,  while  dazzling 
themselves,  left  the  Punic  army  below  them  in  the  shade. 
Hamilcar  caused  a  trench  fifteen  feet  broad  and  ten  cubits 
deep  to  be  dug  in  Roman  fashion  round  his  camp,  and  the 
earth  thrown  out  to  be  raised  on  the  inside  into  a  parapet, 
on   which    sharp   interlacing    stakes   were    planted ;    and    at 


362  FLAUBERT 

sunrise  the  Mercenaries  were  amazed  to  perceive  all  the 
Carthaginians   thus  entrenched  as  though  in  a  fortress. 

They  could  recognize  Hamilcar  in  the  midst  of  the  tents 
walking  about  and  giving  orders.  His  person  was  clad  in 
a  brown  cuirass  cut  in  little  scales ;  he  was  followed  by  his 
horse,  and  stopped  from  time  to  time  to  point  out  some- 
thing with  his  right  arm  outstretched. 

Then  more  than  one  recalled  similar  mornings  when, 
amid  the  din  of  clarions,  he  passed  slowly  before  them,  and 
his  looks  strengthened  them  like  cups  of  wine.  A  kind  of 
emotion  overcame  them.  Those,  on  the  contrary,  who  were 
not  acquainted  with  Hamilcar,  were  mad  with  joy  at  hav- 
ing caught  him. 

Nevertheless,  if  all  attacked  at  once  they  would  do  one 
another  mutual  injury  in  the  insufficiency  of  space.  The 
Numidians  might  dash  through ;  but  the  Clinabarians,  who 
were  protected  by  cuirasses,  would  crush  them.  And  then 
how  were  the  palisades  to  be  crossed  ?  As  to  the  elephants 
they  were  not  sufficiently  well  trained. 

<(  You  are  all  cowards  !  ®  exclaimed  Matho. 

And  with  the  best  among  them  he  rushed  against  the 
entrenchment.  They  were  repulsed  by  a  volley  of  stones ; 
for  the  Suffet  had  taken  their  abandoned  catapults  on  the 
bridge. 

This  want  of  success  produced  an  abrupt  change  in  the 
fickle  minds  of  the  Barbarians.  Their  extreme  bravery  dis- 
appeared ;  they  wished  to  conquer,  but  with  the  smallest 
possible  risk.  According  to  Spendius  they  ought  to  care- 
fully maintain  the  position  that  they  held,  and  starve  out 
the  Punic  army.  But  the  Cathaginians  began  to  dig  wells, 
and  as  there  were  mountains  surrounding  the  hill,  they  dis- 
covered water. 

From  the  summit  of  their  palisade  they  launched  arrows, 
earth,  dung,  and  pebbles  which  they  gathered  from  the 
ground,  while  the  six  catapults  rolled  incessantly  through- 
out the  length  of  the  terrace. 

But  the  springs  would  dry  up  of  themselves ;  the  provi- 
sions would  be  exhausted,  and  the  catapults  worn  out  ;  the 
Mercenaries,  who  were  ten  times  as  numerous,  would 
triumph  in  the  end.     Suffet   devised   negotiations   so   as   to 


SALAMMBO  363 

gain  time,  and  one  morning  the  Barbarians  found  a  sheep's 
skin  covered  with  writing  within  their  lines.  He  justified 
himself  for  his  victory  :  the  Ancients  had  forced  him  into 
the  war,  and  to  show  them  that  he  was  keeping  his  word, 
he  offered  them  the  pillaging  of  Utica  or  Hippo-Zarytus  at 
their  choice ;  in  conclusion,  Hamilcar  declared  that  he  did 
not  fear  them  because  he  had  won  over  some  traitors,  and 
thanks  to  them  would  easily  manage  the  rest. 

The  Barbarians  were  disturbed  :  this  proposal  of  immedi- 
ate booty  made  them  consider ;  they  were  apprehensive  of 
treachery,  not  suspecting  a  snare  in  the  Suffet's  boasting, 
and  they  began  to  look  upon  one  another  with  mistrust. 
Words  and  steps  were  watched ;  terrors  awaked  them  in  the 
night.  Many  forsook  their  companions  and  chose  their 
army  as  fancy  dictated,  and  the  Gauls  with  Autaritus  went 
and  joined  themselves  with  the  men  of  Cisalpine  Gaul, 
whose  language  they  understood. 

The  four  chiefs  met  together  every  evening  in  Matho's 
tent,  and  squatting  round  a  shield,  attentively  moved  back- 
ward and  forward  the  little  wooden  figures  invented  by 
Pyrrhus  for  the  representation  of  manceuvers.  Spendius 
would  demonstrate  Hamilcar's  resources,  and  with  oaths  by 
all  the  gods  entreat  that  the  opportunity  should  not  be 
wasted.  Matho  would  walk  about  angry  and  gesticulating. 
The  war  against  Carthage  was  his  own  personal  affair  ;  he 
was  indignant  that  the  others  should  interfere  in  it  with- 
out being  willing  to  obey  him.  Autaritus  would  divine  his 
speech  from  his  countenance  and  applaud.  Narr'  Havas 
would  elevate  his  chin  to  mark  his  disdain ;  there  was  not 
a  measure  that  he  did  not  consider  fatal  ;  and  he  had 
ceased  to  smile.  Sighs  would  escape  him  as  though  he 
were  thrusting  back  sorrow  for  an  impossible  dream,  des- 
pair for  an  abortive  enterprise. 

While  the  Barbarians  deliberated  in  uncertainty,  the  Suf- 
fet  increased  his  defenses ;  he  had  a  second  trench  dug 
within  the  palisades,  a  second  wall  raised,  and  wooden 
towers  constructed  at  the  corners ;  and  his  slaves  went  as 
far  as  the  middle  of  the  outposts  to  drive  caltrops  into  the 
ground.  But  the  elephants,  whose  allowances  were  les- 
sened, struggled  in  their  shackles.     To  economize  the  grass 


364  FLAUBERT 

he  ordered  the  Clinabarians  to  kill  the  least  strong  among 
the  stallions.  A  few  refused  to  do  so  and  he  had  them 
decapitated.  The  horses  were  eaten.  The  recollection  of 
this  fresh  meat  was  a  source  of  great  sadness  to  them  in 
the  days  that  followed. 

From  the  bottom  of  the  amphitheatre  in  which  they  were 
confined  they  could  see  the  four  bustling  camps  of  the 
Barbarians  all  around  them  on  the  heights.  Women  moved 
about  with  leathern  bottles  on  their  heads,  goats  strayed 
bleating  beneath  the  piles  of  pikes ;  sentries  were  being  re- 
lieved, and  eating  was  going  on  around  tripods.  In  fact, 
the  tribes  furnished  them  abundantly  with  provisions,  and 
they  did  not  themselves  suspect  how  much  their  inaction 
alarmed  the  Punic  army. 

On  the  second  day  the  Carthaginians  had  remarked  a 
troop  of  three  hundred  men  apart  from  the  rest  in  the 
camp  of  the  Nomads.  These  were  the  Rich  who  had  been 
kept  prisoners  since  the  beginning  of  the  war.  Some  Lib- 
yans ranged  them  along  the  edge  of  the  trench,  took  their 
station  behind  them,  and  hurled  javelins,  making  them- 
selves a  rampart  of  their  bodies.  The  wretched  creatures 
could  scarcely  be  recognized,  so  completely  were  their  faces 
covered  with  vermin  and  filth.  Their  hair  had  been 
plucked  out  in  places,  leaving  bare  the  ulcers  on  their 
heads,  and  they  were  so  lean  and  hideous  that  they  were 
like  mummies  in  tattered  shrouds.  A  few  trembled  and 
sobbed  with  a  stupid  look ;  the  rest  cried  out  to  their 
friends  to  fire  upon  the  Barbarians.  There  was  one  who 
remained  quite  motionless  with  face  cast  down,  and  with- 
out speaking ;  his  long  white  beard  fell  to  his  chain- 
covered  hands;  and  the  Carthaginians,  feeling  as  it  were 
the  downfall  of  the  Republic  in  the  bottom  of  their  hearts, 
recognized  Gisco.  Although  the  place  was  a  dangerous 
one  they  pressed  forward  to  see  him.  On  his  head  had 
been  placed  a  grotesque  tiara  of  hippopotamus  leather  in- 
crusted  with  pebbles.  It  was  Autaritus's  idea  ;  but  it  was 
displeasing  to  Matho. 

Hamilcar  in  exasperation,  and  resolved  to  cut  his  way 
through  in  one  way  or  another,  had  the  palisades  opened ; 
and  the   Carthaginians    went  at  a  furious   rate  half  way  up 


SALAMMBO  365 

the  hill  or  three  hundred  paces.  Such  a  flood  of  Barba- 
rians descended  upon  them  that  they  were  driven  back 
to  their  lines.  One  of  the  guards  of  the  L,egion  who 
had  remained  outside  was  stumbling  among  the  stones. 
Zarxas  ran  up  to  him,  knocked  him  down,  and  plunged  a 
dagger  into  his  throat ;  he  drew  it  out,  threw  himself  upon 
the  wound  —  and  gluing  his  lips  to  it  with  mutterings  of 
joy  and  startings  which  shook  him  to  the  heels,  pumped 
up  the  blood  by  breastfuls  ;  then  he  quietly  sat  down  upon 
the  corpse,  raised  his  face  with  his  neck  thrown  back  the 
better  to  breathe  in  the  air,  like  a  hind  that  has  just 
drunk  at  a  mountain  stream,  and  in  a  shrill  voice  be- 
gan to  sing  a  Balearic  song,  a  vague  melody  full  of 
prolonged  modulations,  with  interruptions  and  alternations 
like  echos  answering  one  another  in  the  mounains ;  he 
called  upon  his  dead  brothers  and  invited  them  to  a  feast 
—  then  he  let  his  hands  fall  between  his  legs,  slowly  bent 
his  head,  and  wept.  This  atrocious  occurrence  horrified  the 
Barbarians,  especially  the  Greeks. 

From  that  time  forth  the  Carthaginians  did  not  attempt 
to  make  any  sally  ;  and  they  had  no  thought  of  sur- 
render, certain  as  they  were  that  they  would  perish  in 
tortures. 

Nevertheless  the  provisions,  in  spite  of  Hamilcar's  care- 
fulness, diminished  frightfully.  There  was  not  left  per  man 
more  than  ten  k'hommers  of  wheat,  three  hins  of  millet, 
and  twelve  betzas  of  dried  fruit.  No  more  meat,  no  more 
oil,  no  more  salt  food,  and  not  a  grain  of  barley  for  the 
horses,  which  might  be  seen  stretching  down  their  wasted 
necks  seeking  in  the  dust  for  blades  of  trampled  straw. 
Often  the  sentries  on  vedette  upon  the  terrace  would  see 
in  the  moonlight  a  dog  belonging  to  the  Barbarians  coming 
to  prowl  beneath  the  entrenchment  among  the  heaps  of 
filth ;  it  would  be  knocked  down  with  a  stone,  and  then, 
after  a  descent  had  been  effected  along  the  palisades  by 
means  of  the  straps  of  a  shield,  it  would  be  eaten  without 
a  word.  Sometimes  horrible  barkings  would  be  heard  and 
the  man  would  not  come  up  again.  Three  phalangites,  in 
the  fourth  dilochia  of  the  twelfth  syntagma,  killed  one 
another  with  knives  in  a  dispute  about  a  rat. 


366  FLAUBERT 

All  regretted  their  families,  and  their  houses ;  the  poor 
their  hive-shaped  huts,  with  the  shells  on  the  threshold  and 
the  hanging  net,  and  the  patricians  their  large  halls  filled 
with  bluish  shadows,  where  at  the  most  indolent  hour  of 
the  day,  they  used  to  rest  listening  to  the  vague  noise  of 
the  streets  mingled  with  the  rustling  of  the  leaves  as  they 
stirred  in  their  gardens  —  to  go  deeper  into  the  thought  of 
this,  and  to  enjoy  it  more,  they  would  half  close  their  eye- 
lids, only  to  be  roused  by  the  shock  of  a  wound.  Every 
minute  there  was  some  engagement,  some  fresh  alarm ;  the 
towers  were  burning,  the  Eaters  of  Uncleanness  were  leap- 
ing across  the  palisades ;  their  hands  would  be  struck  off 
with  axes ;  others  would  hasten  up ;  an  iron  hail  would  fall 
upon  the  tents.  Galleries  of  rusben  hurdles  were  raised  as 
a  protection  against  the  projectiles.  The  Carthaginians  shut 
themselves  up  within  them  and  stirred  out  no  more. 

Every  day  the  sun  coming  over  the  hill,  used  after  the 
early  hours,  to  forsake  the  bottom  of  the  gorge  and  leave 
them  in  the  shade.  The  gray  slopes  of  the  ground,  cov- 
ered with  flints  spotted  with  scanty  lichen,  ascended  in  front 
and  in  the  rear,  and  above  their  summits  stretched  the  sky 
in  its  perpetual  purity,  smoother  and  colder  to  the  eye  than 
a  metal  cupola.  Hamilcar  was  so  indignant  with  Carthage 
that  he  felt  inclined  to  throw  himself  among  the  Barba- 
rians and  lead  them  against  her.  Moreover,  the  porters,  sut- 
lers, and  slaves  were  beginning  to  murmur,  while  neither 
people  nor  Great  Council,  or  any  one  sent  as  much  as  a 
hope.  The  situation  was  intolerable,  especially  owing  to  the 
thought  that  it  would  become  worse. 

At  the  news  of  tbe  disaster  Carthage  had  leaped,  as  it 
were,  with  anger  and  hate ;  the  Suffet  would  have  been 
less  execrated  if  he  had  allowed  himself  to  be  conquered 
from  the  first. 

But  time  and  money  were  lacking  for  the  hire  of  other 
Mercenaries.  As  to  a  levy  of  soldiers  in  the  town,  how 
were  they  to  be  equipped?  Hamilcar  had  taken  all  the 
arms !  and  then  who  was  to  command  them  ?  The  best 
captains  were  down  yonder  with  him  !  Meanwhile,  some 
men  despatched  by  the  Suffet  arrived  in  the  streets  with 
shouts. 


SALAMMBO  367 

The  Great  Council  were  roused  by  them,  and  contrived 
to  make  them  disappear. 

It  was  an  unnecessary  precaution  ;  every  one  accused 
Barca  of  having  behaved  with  slackness.  He  ought  to  hare 
annihilated  the  Mercenaries  after  his  victory.  Why  had  he 
ravaged  the  tribes?  The  sacrifices  already  imposed  had 
been  heavy  enough !  and  the  patricians  deplored  their  con- 
tributions of  fourteen  shekels,  and  the  Syssitia  their  two 
hundred  and  twenty-three  thousand  gold  kikars ;  those  who 
had  given  nothing  lamented  like  the  rest.  The  populace 
was  jealous  of  the  New  Carthaginians,  to  whom  he  had 
promised  full  rights  of  citizenship ; .  and  even  the  I,igurians, 
who  had  fought  with  such  intrepidity,  were  confounded 
with  the  Barbarians  and  cursed  like  them ;  their  race  be- 
came a  crime,  the  proof  of  complicity.  The  traders  on  the 
threshold  of  their  shops,  the  workmen  passing  plumb-line 
in  hand,  the  vendors  of  pickle  rinsing  their  baskets,  the 
attendants  in  the  vapor  baths  and  the  retailers  of  hot  drinks 
all  discussed  the  operations  of  the  campaign.  They  would 
trace  battle-plans  with  their  ringers  in  the  dust,  and  there 
was  not  a  sorry  rascal  to  be  found  who  could  not  have  cor- 
rected Hamilcar's  mistakes. 

It  was  a  punishment,  said  the  priests,  for  his  long- 
continued  impiety.  He  had  offered  no  holocausts  ;  he  had 
not  purified  his  troops ;  he  had  even  refused  to  take  augurs 
with  him ;  and  the  scandal  of  sacrilege  strengthened  the 
violence  of  restrained  hate,  and  the  rage  of  betrayed  hopes. 
People  recalled  the  Sicilian  disasters,  and  all  the  burden  of 
his  pride  that  they  had  borne  for  so  long !  The  colleges  of 
the  pontiffs  could  not  forgive  him  for  having  seized  their 
treasure,  and  they  demanded  a  pledge  from  the  Great  Coun- 
cil to  crucify  him  should  he  ever  return. 

The  heats  of  the  month  of  Eloul,  which  were  excessive 
in  that  year,  were  another  calamity.  Sickening  smells  rose 
from  the  borders  of  the  lake,  and  were  wafted  through 
the  air  together  with  the  fumes  of  the  aromatics  that  eddied 
at  the  corners  of  the  streets.  The  sounds  of  hymns  were 
constantly  heard.  Crowds  of  people  occupied  the  staircases 
of  the  temples ;  all  the  walls  were  covered  with  black  veils  ; 
tapers  burned  on  the   brows   of    the    Pataec   gods,  and    the 


368  FLAUBERT 

blood  of  camels  slain  for  sacrifice  ran  along  the  nights  of 
stairs  forming  red  cascades  upon  the  steps.  Carthage  was 
agitated  with  funereal  delirium.  From  the  depths  of  the 
narrowest  lanes,  and  the  ^blackest  dens,  there  issued  pale 
faces,  men  with  viper-like  profiles  and  grinding  their  teeth. 
The  houses  were  filled  with  the  women's  piercing  shrieks, 
which,  escaping  through  the  gratings,  caused  those  who 
stood  talking  in  the  squares  to  turn  round.  Sometimes  it 
was  thought  that  the  Barbarians  were  arriving ;  they  had 
been  seen  behind  the  mountain  of  the  Hot  Springs  ;  they 
were  encamped  at  Tunis ;  and  the  voices  would  multiply 
and  swell,  and  be  blended  into  one  single  clamor.  Then 
universal  silence  would  reign,  some  remaining  where  they 
had  climbed  upon  the  frontals  of  the  buildings,  screening 
their  eyes  with  their  open  hand,  while  the  rest  lay  flat  on 
their  faces  at  the  foot  of  the  ramparts  straining  their  ears. 
When  their  terror  had  passed  off  their  anger  would  begin 
again.  But  the  conviction  of  their  own  impotence  would 
soon  sink  them  into  the  same  sadness  as  before. 

It  increased  every  evening  when  all  ascended  the  ter- 
races, and  bowing  down  nine  times  uttered  a  loud  cry  in 
salutation  of  the  Sun  as  it  sank  slowly  behind  the  Lagoon, 
and  then  suddenly  disappeared  among  the  mountains  in  the 
direction  of  the  Barbarians. 

They  were  waiting  for  the  thrice  holy  festival  when, 
from  the  summit  of  a  funeral  pile,  an  eagle  flew  heaven- 
ward as  a  symbol  of  the  resurrection  of  the  year,  and  a 
message  from  the  people  to  their  Baal  ;  they  regarded  it  as 
a  sort  of  union,  a  method  connecting  themselves  with  the 
might  of  the  Sun.  Moreover,  filled  as  they  now  were  with 
hatred,  they  turned  frankly  toward  Homicidal  Moloch,  and 
all  forsook  Tanith.  In  fact,  Rabetna,  having  lost  her  veil, 
was  as  though  she  had  been  despoiled  of  part  of  her  virtue. 
She  denied  the  beneficence  of  her  waters,  she  had  aban- 
doned Carthage  ;  she  was  a  deserter,  an  enemy.  Some 
threw  stones  at  her  to  insult  her.  •  But  many  pitied  her 
while  they  inveighed  against  her  ;  she  was  still  beloved,  and 
perhaps  more  deeply  than  she  had  been. 

All  their  misfortunes  came,  therefore,  from  the  loss  of 
the    zaimph.     Salammbo   had   indirectly    participated    in  it ; 


SALAMMBO  369 

she  was  included  in  the  same  ill  will  ;  she  must  be  pun- 
ished. A  vague  idea  of  immolation  spread  among  the  peo- 
ple. To  appease  the  Baalim  it  was  without  doubt  necessary 
to  offer  them  something  of  incalculable  worth,  a  being 
handsome,  young,  virgin,  of  old  family,  descendant  of  the 
gods,  a  human  star.  Every  day  the  gardens  of  Megara 
were  invaded  by  strange  men ;  the  slaves,  trembling  on 
their  own  account,  dared  not  resist  them.  Nevertheless, 
they  did  not  pass  beyond  the  galley  staircase.  They  re- 
mained below  with  their  eyes  raised  to  the  highest  terrace  ; 
they  were  waiting  for  Salammbo,  and  they  would  cry  out 
for  hours  against  her  like  dogs  baying  at  the  moon. 


THE  SERPENT 

Thbse  clamorings  of   the  populace  did   not  alarm  Hamil- 
car's  daughter. 

She  was  disturbed  by  loftier  anxieties:  her  great 
serpent,  the  black  Python,  was  drooping;  and,  in  the  eyes 
of  the  Carthaginians,  the  serpent  was  at  once  a  national 
and  a  private  fetish.  It  was  believed  to  be  the  offspring 
of  the  dust  of  the  earth,  since  it  emerges  from  its  depths 
and  has  no  need  of  feet  to  traverse  it ;  its  mode  of  pro- 
gression called  to  mind  the  undulations  of  rivers,  its  tem- 
perature the  ancient  viscous  and  fecund  darkness,  and  the 
orbit  which  it  describes  when  biting  its  tail  the  harmony  of 
the  planets,  and  the  intelligence  of  Eschmoun. 

Salammbo's  serpent  had  several  times  already  refused  the 
four  live  sparrows  which  were  offered  to  it  at  the  full 
moon  and  at  every  new  moon.  Its  handsome  skin, 
covered  like  the  firmament  with  golden  spots  upon  a  per- 
fectly black  ground,  was  now  yellow,  relaxed,  wrinkled, 
and  too  large  for  its  body.  A  cottony  moldiness  extended 
round  its  head ;  and  in  the  corners  of  its  eyelids  might  be 
seen  little  red  specks  which  appeared  to  move.  Salammbo 
would  approach  its  silver- wire  basket  from  time  to  time, 
and  would  draw  aside  the  purple  curtains,  the  lotus  leaves, 
and  the  bird's  down ;  but  it  was  continually  rolled  up 
24 


370  FLAUBERT 

upon  itself,  more  motionless  than  a  withered  bindweed  ; 
and  from  looking  at  it  she  at  last  came  to  feel  a  kind  of 
spiral  within  her  heart,  another  serpent,  as  it  were,  mount- 
ing up  to  her  throat  by  degrees  and  strangling  her. 

She  was  in  despair  at  having  seen  the  zaimph,  and  yet 
she  felt  a  sort  of  joy,  an  intimate  pride  at  having  done  so. 
A  mystery  shrank  within  the  splendor  of  its  folds ;  it  was 
the  cloud  that  enveloped  the  gods,  and  the  secret  of  the 
universal  existence,  and  Salammbo,  horror-stricken  at  her- 
self, regretted  that  she  had  not  raised  it. 

She  was  almost  always  crouching  at  the  back  of  her 
apartment,  holding  her  bended  left  leg  in  her  hands,  her 
mouth  half  open,  her  chin  sunk,  her  eye  fixed.  She  recol- 
lected her  father's  face  with  terror ;  she  wished  to  go 
away  into  the  mountains  of  Phoenicia,  on  a  pilgrimage  to 
the  temple  of  Aphaka,  where  Tanith  descended  in  the  form 
of  a  star ;  all  kinds  of  imaginings  attracted  her  and  terrified 
her ;  moreover,  a  solitude  which  every  day  became  greater 
encompassed  her.  She  did  not  even  know  what  Hamilcar 
was  about. 

Wearied  at  last  with  her  thoughts  she  would  rise,  and 
trailing  along  her  little  sandals  whose  soles  clacked  upon 
her  heels  at  every  step,  she  would  walk  at  random  through 
the  large  silent  room.  The  amethysts  and  topazes  of  the 
ceiling  made  luminous  spots  quiver  here  and  there,  and 
Salammbo  as  she  walked  would  turn  her  head  a  little  to 
see  them.  She  would  go  and  take  the  hanging  amphoras 
by  the  neck ;  she  would  cool  her  bosom  beneath  the  broad 
fans,  or  perhaps  amuse  herself  by  burning  cinnamomum  in 
hollow  pearls.  At  sunset  Taanach  would  draw  back  the 
black  felt  lozenges  that  closed  the  openings  in  the  wall ;  then 
her  doves,  rubbed  with  musk  like  the  doves  of  Tanith, 
suddenly  entered,  and  their  pink  feet  glided  over  the  glass 
pavement,  amid  the  grains  of  barley  which  she  threw  to 
them  in  handfuls  like  a  sower  in  a  field.  But  on  a  sudden 
she  would  burst  into  sobs  and  lie  stretched  on  the  large 
bed  of  ox-leather  straps  without  moving,  repeating  a  word 
that  was  ever  the  same,  with  open  eyes,  pale  as  one  dead,  in- 
sensible, cold ;  and  yet  she  could  hear  the  cries  of  the  apes 
in  the  tufts  of   the  palm   trees,  with  the  continuous  grind- 


SALAMMBO  371 

ing  of  the  great  wheel  which  brought  a  flow  of  pure  water 
through  the  stories  into  the  porphyry  centre-basin. 

Sometimes  for  several  days  she  would  refuse  to  eat.  She 
could  see  in  a  dream  troubled  stars  wandering  beneath  her 
feet.  She  would  call  Schahabarim,  and  when  he  came  she 
had  nothing  to  say  to  him. 

She  could  not  live  without  the  relief  of  his  presence. 
But  she  rebelled  inwardly  against  this  domination ;  her 
feeling  toward  the  priest  was  at  once  of  terror,  jealousy, 
hatred,  and  a  species  of  love,  in  gratitude  for  the  singular 
voluptuousness  which  she  experienced  by  his  side. 

He  had  recognized  the  influence  of  Rabbet,  being  skillful 
to  discern  the  gods  who  sent  diseases ;  and  to  cure 
Salammbo  he  had  her  apartment  watered  with  lotions  of 
vervain,  and  maiden  hair ;  she  ate  mandrakes  every  morn- 
ing ;  she  slept  with  her  head  on  a  cushion  filled  with 
aromatics  blended  by  the  pontiffs;  he  had  even  employed 
baaras,  a  fiery-colored  root  which  drives  back  fatal  geniuses 
into  the  North ;  lastly,  turning  toward  the  polar  star,  he 
murmured  thrice  the  mysterious  name  of  Tanith ;  but 
Salammbo  still  suffered  and  her  anguish  deepened. 

No  one  in  Carthage  was  so  learned  as  he.  In  his  youth 
he  had  studied  at  the  College  of  the  Mogbeds,  at  Borsippa, 
near  Babylon ;  had  then  visited  Samothrace,  Ephesus, 
Pessinus,  Thessaly,  Judaea,  and  the  temples  of  the  Nabathae, 
which  are  lost  in  the  sands  ;  and  had  traveled  on  foot  along 
the  banks  of  the  Nile  from  the  cataracts  to  the  sea. 
Shaking  torches  with  veil-covered  face  he  had  cast  a  black 
cock  upon  a  fire  of  sandarach  before  the  breast  of  the 
Sphinx,  the  Father  of  Terror.  He  had  descended  into 
the  caverns  of  Proserpine ;  he  had  seen  the  five  hundred 
pillars  of  the  labyrinth  of  L,emnos  revolve,  and  the  candel- 
abrum of  Tarentum,  which  bore  as  many  sconces  on  its 
shaft  as  there  are  days  in  the  year,  shine  in  its  splendor ; 
at  times  he  received  Greeks  by  night  in  order  to  question 
them.  The  constitution  of  the  world  disquieted  him  no  less 
than  the  nature  of  the  gods;  he  had  observed  the  equi- 
noxes with  the  armils  placed  in  the  portico  of  Alexandria, 
and  accompanied  the  bematists  of  Evergetes,  who  measure 
the  sky  by  calculating  the  number  of  their  steps,  as  far  as 


372  FLAUBERT 

Cyrene ;  so  that  there  was  now  growing  in  his  thoughts  a 
religion  of  his  own,  with  no  distinct  formula,  and  on  that 
very  account  full  of  infatuation  and  fervor.  He  no  longer 
believed  that  the  earth  was  formed  like  a  fir-cone ;  he 
believed  it  to  be  round,  and  eternally  falling  through  im- 
mensity with  such  prodigious  speed  that  its  fall  was  not 
perceived. 

From  the  position  of  the  sun  above  the  moon  he  inferred 
the  predominance  of  Baal,  of  whom  the  planet  itself  is  but 
the  reflection  and  figure ;  moreover,  all  that  he  saw  in  ter- 
restrial things  compelled  him  to  recognize  the  male  exter- 
minating principle  as  supreme.  And  then  he  secretly 
charged  Rabbet  with  the  misfortune  of  his  life.  Was  it  not 
for  her  that  the  grand-pontiff  had  once  advanced  amid  the 
tumult  of  cymbals,  and  with  a  patera  of  boiling  water, 
taken  from  him  his  future  virility.  And  he  followed  with 
a  melancholy  gaze  the  men  who  were  disappearing  with  the 
priestesses  in  the  depths  of  the  turpentine  trees. 

His  days  were  spent  in  inspecting  the  censers,  the  gold 
vases,  the  tongs,  the  rakes  for  the  ashes  of  the  altar,  and 
all  the  robes  of  the  statues  down  to  the  bronze  bodkin  that 
served  to  curl  the  hair  of  an  old  Tanith  in  the  third  aedi- 
cule near  the  emerald  vine.  At  the  same  hours  he  would 
raise  the  great  hangings  of  the  same  swinging  doors ;  would 
remain  with  his  arms  outspread  in  the  same  attitude ;  or 
prayed  prostrate  on  the  same  flagstones,  while  around  him 
a  people  of  priests  moved  barefooted  through  the  passages 
filled  with  an  eternal  twilight. 

But  Salammbo  was  in  the  barrenness  of  his  life  like  a 
flower  in  the  cleft  of  a  sepulchre.  Nevertheless  he  was 
hard  upon  her,  and  spared  her  neither  penances  nor  bitter 
words.  His  condition  established,  as  it  were,  the  equality 
of  a  common  sex  between  them,  and  he  was  less  angry 
with  the  young  girl  for  his  inability  to  possess  her  than 
for  finding  her  so  beautiful,  and  above  all  so  pure.  Often 
he  saw  that  she  grew  weary  in  following  his  thought. 
Then  he  would  turn  away  sadder  than  before  ;  he  would 
feel  himself  more  forsaken,  more  empty,  more  alone. 

Strange  words  escaped  him  sometimes,  which  passed  be- 
fore    Salammbo     like     broad     lightnings     illuminating     the 


SALAMMBO  373 

abysses.  This  would  be  at  night  on  the  terrace  when,  both 
alone,  they  gazed  upon  the  stars,  and  Carthage  spread  be- 
low under  their  feet,  with  the  gulf  and  the  open  sea  dimly 
lost  in  the  color  of  the  darkness. 

He  would  set  forth  to  her  the  theory  of  the  souls  that 
descend  upon  the  earth,  following  the  same  route  as  the 
sun  through  the  signs  of  the  zodiac.  With  outstretched 
arm  he  showed  the  gate  of  human  generation  in  the 
Ram,  and  that  of  the  return  to  the  gods  in  Capricorn  ; 
and  Salammbo  strove  to  see  them,  for  she  took  these  con- 
ceptions for  realities  ;  she  accepted  pure  symbols  and  even 
manners  of  speech  as  being  true  in  themselves,  a  distinc- 
tion not  always  very  clear  even  to  the  priest. 

"The  souls  of  the  dead,8  said  he,  "resolve  themselves 
into  the  moon,  as  their  bodies  do  into  the  earth.  Their 
tears  compose  its  humidity ;  'tis  a  dark  abode  full  of  mire, 
and  wreck,  and  tempest. * 

She  asked  what  would  become  of  her  there. 

(<  At  first  you  will  languish  as  light  as  a  vapor  hovering 
upon  the  waves ;  and  after  more  lengthened  ordeals  and 
agonies,  you  will  pass  into  the  forces  of  the  sun,  the  very 
source  of  Intelligence  ! }> 

He  did  not  speak,  however,  of  Rabbet.  Salammbo  im- 
agined that  it  was  through  shame  for  his  vanquished  god- 
dess, and  calling  her  by  a  common  name  which  designated 
the  moon  she  launched  into  blessings  upon  the  soft  and 
fertile  planet.     At  last  he  exclaimed  :  — 

(<  No  !  no  !  she  draws  all  her  fecundity  from  the  other  ! 
Do  you  not  see  her  hovering  about  him  like  an  amorous 
woman  running  after  a  man  in  a  field  ?  *  And  he  exalted 
the  virtue  of  light  unceasingly. 

Far  from  depressing  her  mystic  desires,  he  sought,  on  the 
contrary,  to  excite  them,  and  he  even  seemed  to  take  joy 
in  grieving  her  by  the  revelation  of  a  pitiless  doctrine.  In 
spite  of  the  pains  of  her  love  Salammbo  threw  herself  upon 
it  with  transport. 

But  the  more  that  Schahabarim  felt  himself  in  doubt 
about  Tanith,  the  more  he  wished  to  believe  in  her.  At 
the  bottom  of  his  soul  he  was  arrested  by  remorse.  He 
needed  some  proof,  some  manifestation  from    the  gods,  and 


374  FLAUBERT 

in  the  hope  of  obtaining  it  the  priest  devised  an  enter- 
prise which  might  save  at  once  his  country  and  his    belief. 

Thenceforward  he  set  himself  to  deplore  before  Salammbo 
the  sacrilege  and  the  misfortunes  which  resulted  from  it 
even  in  the  regions  of  the  sky.  Then  he  suddenly  an- 
nounced the  peril  of  the  Suffet,  who  was  assailed  by  three 
armies  under  the  command  of  Matho  —  for  on  account  of 
the  veil  Matho  was,  in  the  eyes  of  the  Carthaginians,  the 
king  as  it  were  of  the  Barbarians —  and  he  added  that  the 
safety  of  the  Republic  and  of  her  father  depended  upon  her 
alone. 

<(  Upon  me  !  *  she  exclaimed.     <(  How  can  I  —  ?  ■ 

But  the  priest  with  a  smile  of  disdain  :  — 

<(  You  will  never  consent !  * 

She  entreated  him.     At  last  Schahabarim  said  to  her :  — 

(<  You  must  go  to  the  Barbarians  and  recover  the  zaimph  !  * 

She  sank  down  upon  the  ebony  stool,  and  remained  with 
her  arms  stretched  out  between  her  knees  and  a  shivering 
in  all  her  limbs,  like  a  victim  at  the  altar's  foot  awaiting 
the  blow  of  the  club.  Her  temples  were  ringing,  she  could 
see  fiery  circles  revolving,  and  in  her  stupor  she  had  lost 
the  understanding  of  all  things  save  one,  that  she  was  cer- 
tainly going  to  die  soon. 

But  if  Rabetna  triumphed,  if  the  zaimph  were  restored 
and  Carthage  delivered,  what  mattered  a  woman's  life ! 
thought  Schahabarim.  Moreover,  she  would  perhaps  obtain 
the  veil  and  not  perish. 

He  stayed  away  for  three  days ;  on  the  evening  of  the 
fourth  she  sent  for  him. 

The  better  to  inflame  her  heaTt  he  reported  to  her  all  the 
invectives  howled  against  Hamilcar  in  open  council  ;  he  told 
her  that  she  had  erred,  that  she  owed  reparation  for  her 
crime,  and  that  Rabetna  commanded  the  sacrifice. 

A  great  uproar  came  frequently  across  the  Mappalian  dis- 
trict to  Megara.  Schahabarim  and  Salammbo  went  out 
quicklj',  and  gazed  from  the  top  of  the  galley  staircase. 

There  were  people  in  the  square  of  Khamon  shouting  for 
arms.  The  Ancients  would  not  provide  them,  esteeming 
such  an  effort  useless ;  others  who  had  set  out  without  a 
general    had   been    massacred.     At  last  they  were  permitted 


SALAMMBO  375 

to  depart,  and  as  a  sort  of  homage  to  Moloch  or  from  a 
vague  need  of  destruction,  they  tore  up  tall  cypress  trees 
in  the  woods  of  the  temples,  and  having  kindled  them  at 
the  torches  of  the  Kabiri,  were  carrying  them  through  the 
streets  singing.  These  monstrous  flames  advanced  swaying 
gently ;  they  transmitted  fires  to  the  glass  balls  on  the 
crests  of  the  temples,  to  the  ornaments  of  the  colossuses 
and  the  beaks  of  the  ships,  passed  beyond  the  terraces  and 
formed  suns,  as  it  were,  which  rolled  through  the  town. 
They  descended  the  Acropolis.     The  gate  of  Malqua  opened. 

<(  Are  you  ready  ?  *  exclaimed  Schahabarim,  (<  or  have  you 
asked  them  to  tell  your  father  that  you  abandoned  him  ?  * 
She  hid  her  face  in  her  veils,  and  the  great  lights  retired, 
sinking  gradually  the  while  to  the  edge  of  the  waves. 

An  indeterminate  dread  restrained  her ;  she  was  afraid  of 
Moloch  and  of  Matho.  This  man,  with  his  giant  stature 
who  was  master  of  the  zaimph,  ruled  Rabetna  as  much  as 
did  Baal,  and  seemed  to  her  to  be  surrounded  by  the  same 
fulgurations ;  and  then  the  souls  of  the  gods  sometimes 
visited  the  bodies  of  men.  Did  not  Schahabarim  in  speak- 
ing of  him  say  that  she  was  to  vanquish  Moloch?  They 
were  mingled  with  each  other ;  she  confused  them  together ; 
both  of  them  were  pursuing  her. 

She  wished  to  learn  the  future,  and  approached  the  ser- 
pent, for  auguries  were  drawn  from  the  attitudes  of  serpents. 
But  the  basket  was  empty  ;  Salammbo  was  disturbed. 

She  found  him  with  his  tail  rolled  round  one  of  the  sil- 
ver balustrades  beside  the  hanging  bed,  which  he  was 
rubbing  in  order  to  free  himself  from  his  old  yellowish 
skin,  while  his  body  stretched  forth  gleaming  and  clear 
like  a  sword  half  out  of  the   sheath. 

Then  on  the  days  following,  in  proportion  as  she  allowed 
herself  to  be  convinced,  and  was  more  disposed  to  succor 
Tanith,  the  python  recovered  and  grew  ;  he  seemed  to  be 
reviving. 

The  certainty  that  Schahabarim  was  giving  expression 
to  the  will  of  the  gods  then  became  established  in  her 
conscience.  One  morning  she  awoke  resolved,  and  she 
asked  what  was  necessar}7  to  make    Matho  restore  the  veil. 

(<To  claim  it,"  said  Schahabarim. 


376  FLAUBERT 

"But  if  he  refuses ?*  she  rejoined. 

The  priest  scanned  her  fixedly  with  a  smile  such  as  she 
had  never  seen. 

<(  Yes,  what  is  to  be  done  ?  *  repeated  Salammbo. 

He  rolled  between  his  fingers  the  extremities  of  the  bands 
which  fell  from  his  tiara  upon  his  shoulders,  standing 
motionless  with  eyes  cast  down.  At  last  seeing  that  she 
did  not  understand  :  — 

"  You  will  be  alone  with  him.  • 

■  Well  ?  »  she  said. 

"  Alone  in  his  tent.  ■ 

"What  then?» 

Schahabarim  bit  his  lips.  He  sought  for  some  phrase, 
some  circumlocution. 

"If  you  are  to  die,  that  will  be  later  on,w  he  said  ;  "later 
on  I  fear  nothing  !  and  whatever  he  may  undertake  to  do, 
do  not  call  out  !  do  not  be  frightened  !  You  will  be  hum- 
ble, you  understand,  and  submissive  to  his  desire,  which  is 
ordained  of  heaven  ! }> 

«  But  the  veil  ?  » 

"The  gods  will  take  thought  for  it,*  replied  Schaha- 
barim. 

"  Suppose  you  were  to  accompany  me,  O  father  ?  •  she 
added. 

«  No  ! » 

He  made  her  kneel  down,  and  keeping  his  left  hand 
raised  and  his  right  extended,  he  swore  on  her  behalf  to 
bring  back  the  mantle  of  Tanith  into  Carthage.  With  ter- 
rible imprecations  she  devoted  herself  to  the  gods,  and 
each  time  that  Schahabarim  pronounced  a  word  she  falter- 
in  gly  repeated  it. 

He  indicated  to  her  all  the  purifications  and  fastings 
that  she  was  to  observe,  and  how  she  was  to  reach  Matho. 
Moreover,  a  man  acquainted  with  the  routes  would  accom- 
pany her. 

She  felt  as  though  she  had  been  set  free.  She  thought 
only  of  the  happiness  of  seeing  the  zaimph  again,  and  she 
now  blessed  Schahabarim  for  his  exhortations. 

It  was  the  period  at  which  the  doves  of  Carthage  mi- 
grated to  Sicily  to    the    mountain  of    Eryx    and  the  temple 


SALAMMBO  377 

of  Venus.  For  several  days  before  their  departure  they 
sought  out  and  called  to  one  another  so  as  to  collect  to- 
gether ;  at  last  one  evening  they  flew  away  ;  the  wind  blew 
them  along,  and  the  big  white  cloud  glided  across  the  sky 
high  above  the  sea. 

The  horizon  was  filled  with  color  of  blood.  They  seemed 
to  descend  gradually  to  the  waves  ;  then  they  disappeared 
as  though  swallowed  up,  and  falling  of  themselves  into  the 
jaws  of  the  sun.  Salammbo,  who  watched  them  retiring, 
bent  her  head,  and  then  Taanach,  believing  that  she 
guessed  her  sorrow,   said  gently  to  her  :  — 

ft  But  they  will  come  back,  Mistress.  * 

«Yes!    I  know." 

<(  And  you  will  see  them  again. }> 

■  Perhaps  !  •    she  said,    sighing. 

She  had  not  confided  her  resolve  to  any  one  ;  in  order 
to  carry  it  out  with  the  greater  discretion  she  sent  Taanach 
to  the  suburb  of  Kinisdo  to  buy  all  the  things  that  she 
required  instead  of  requesting  them  from  the  stewards  : 
vermilion,  aromatics,  a  linen  girdle,  and  new  garments. 
The  old  slave  was  amazed  at  these  preparations,  without 
daring,  however,  to  ask  any  questions  ;  and  the  day,  which 
had  been  fixed  by  Schahabarim,  arrived  when  Salammbo 
was  to  set  out. 

About  the  twelfth  hour  she  perceived,  in  the  depths  of 
the  sycamore  trees,  a  blind  old  man  with  one  hand  resting 
on  the  shoulder  of  a  child,  who  walked  before  him,  while 
with  the  other  he  carried  a  kind  of  cithara  of  black  wood 
against  his  hip.  The  eunuchs,  slaves  and  women  had  been 
scrupulously  sent  away  ;  no  one  might  know  the  mystery 
that  was  preparing. 

Taanach  kindled  four  tripods  filled  with  strobus  and 
cardamomum  in  the  corners  of  the  apartment  ;  then  she 
unfolded  large  Babylonian  hangings,  and  stretched  them  on 
cords  all  around  the  room,  for  Salammbo  did  not  wish  to 
be  seen  even  by  the  walls.  The  kinnor-player  squatted  be- 
hind the  door,  and  the  young  boy  standing  upright  applied 
a  reed  flute  to  his  lips.  In  the  distance  the  roar  of  the 
streets  was  growing  feebler,  violent  shadows  were  lengthen- 
ing before  the   peristyles  of    the   temples,  and  on  the  other 


378  FLAUBERT 

side  of  the  gulf  the  mountain  bases,  the  fields  of  olive- 
trees,  and  the  vague  yellow  lands  undulated  indefinitely, 
and  were  blended  together  in  a  bluish  haze ;  not  a  sound 
was  to  be  heard  and  an  unspeakable  depression  weighed  in 
the  air. 

Salammbo  crouched  down  upon  the  onyx  step  on  the 
edge  of  the  basin ;  she  raised  her  ample  sleeves,  fastening 
them  behind  her  shoulders,  and  began  her  ablutions  in 
methodical  fashion,  according  to  the  sacred  rites. 

Next  Taanach  brought  her  something  liquid  and  coagu- 
lated in  an  alabaster  phial ;  it  was  the  blood  of  a  black 
dog  slaughtered  by  barren  women  on  a  winter's  night 
amid  the  rubbish  of  a  sepulchre.  She  rubbed  it  upon  her 
ears,  her  heels,  and  the  thumb  of  her  right  hand,  and  even 
her  nail  remained  somewhat  red,  as  though  she  had  crushed 
a  fruit. 

The  moon  rose  ;  then  the  cithara  and  the  flute  both  be- 
gan to  play  together. 

Salammbo  unfastened  her  earrings,  her  necklace,  her 
bracelets,  and  her  long  white  simar ;  she  unknotted  the 
band  in  her  hair,  shaking  the  latter  for  a  few  minutes 
softly  over  her  shoulders  to  cool  herself  by  thus  scattering 
it.  The  music  went  on  outside ;  it  consisted  of  three  notes 
ever  the  same,  hurried  and  frenzied ;  the  strings  grated, 
the  flute  blew  ;  Taanach  kept  time  by  striking  her  hands ; 
Salammbo,  with  a  swaying  of  her  whole  body,  chanted 
prayers,  and  her  garments  fell  one  after  another  around 
her. 

The  heavy  tapestry  trembled,  and  the  python's  head  ap- 
peared above  the  cord  that  supported  it.  The  serpent  de- 
scended slowly  like  a  drop  of  water  flowing  along  a  wall, 
crawled  among  the  scattered  stuffs,  and  then  glueing  its 
tail  to  the  ground,  rose  perfectly  erect ;  and  his  eyes  more 
brilliant  than  carbuncles,  darted  upon  Salammbo. 

A  horror  of  cold,  or  perhaps  a  feeling  of  shame,  at  first 
made  her  hesitate.  But  she  recalled  Schahabarim's  orders 
and  advanced ;  the  python  turned  downward,  and  resting 
the  centre  of  its  body  upon  the  nape  of  her  neck,  allowed 
its  head  and  tail  to  hang  like  a  broken  necklace  with  both 
ends  trailing  to  the  ground.     Salammbo  rolled  it  around  her 


SALAMMBO  379 

sides,  under  her  arms,  and  between  her  knees ;  then  taking 
it  by  the  jaw  she  brought  the  little  triangular  mouth  to  the 
edge  of  her  teeth,  and  half  shutting  her  eyes,  threw  her- 
self back  beneath  the  rays  of  the  moon.  The  white  light 
seemed  to  envelop  her  in  a  silver  mist,  the  prints  of  her 
humid  steps  shone  upon  the  flag-stones,  stars  quivered  in 
the  depth  of  the  water  ;  it  tightened  upon  her  its  black 
rings  that  were  spotted  with  scales  of  gold.  Salammbo 
panted  beneath  the  excessive  weight,  her  loins  yielded,  she 
felt  herself  dying,  and  with  the  tips  of  its  tail  the  serpent 
gently  beat  her  thigh  ;  then  the  music  becoming  still  it  fell 
off  again. 

Taanach  came  back  to  her  ;  and  after  arranging  two  can- 
delabra, the  lights  of  which  burned  in  crystal  balls  filled 
with  water,  she  tinged  the  inside  of  her  hands  with  Law- 
sonia,  spread  vermilion  upon  her  cheeks,  and  antimony 
along  the  edge  of  her  eyelids,  and  lengthened  her  eyebrows 
with  a  mixture  of  gum,  musk,  ebony,  and  crushed  legs  of 
flies. 

Salammbo,  seated  on  a  chair  with  ivory  uprights,  gave 
herself  up  to  the  attentions  of  the  slave.  But  the  touch- 
ings,  the  odor  of  the  aromatics,  and  the  fasts  that  she  had 
undergone,  were  enervating  her.  She  became  so  pale  that 
Taanach  stopped. 

•  Go  on  !  ■  said  Salammbo  and  bearing  up  against  her- 
self, she  suddenly'  revived.  Then  she  was  seized  with  im- 
patience ;  she  urged  the  Taanach  to  make  haste,  and  the  old 
slave  grumbled  :  — 

<{  Well !  well  !  Mistress  !  Besides,  you  have  no  one  wait- 
ing for  you  !  * 

"Yes!"  said  Salammbo,  "some  one  is  waiting  for  me.* 

Taanach  drew  back  in  surprise,  and  in  order  to  learn 
more  about  it,  said  :  — 

(<  What  orders  do  you  give  me,  Mistress  ?  for  if  you  are 
to  remain  away M 

But  Salammbo     was  sobbing  ;  the  slave  exclaimed  :  — 

(<  You  are  suffering  !  what  is  the  matter  ?  Do  not  go 
away  !  take  me  !  When  you  were  quite  little  and  used  to 
cry,  I  took  you  to  my  heart  and  made  you  laugh  with  the 
points  of  my  breasts  ;    you   have   drained    them,  Mistress  !  * 


380  FLAUBERT 

She  struck  herself  upon  her  dried-up  bosom.  <(  Now  I  am 
old  !  I  can  do  nothing  for  you  !  you  no  longer  love  me ! 
you  hide  your  griefs  from  me,  you  despise  the  nurse !  ■ 
And  tears  of  tenderness  and  vexation  flowed  down  her 
cheeks  in  the  gashes  of  her  tatooing. 

•No,*  said  Salammbo,   (<no,  I  love  you  !  be  comforted!" 

With  a  smile  like  the  grimace  of  an  old  ape,  Taanach 
resumed  her  task.  In  accordance  with  Schahabarim's  rec- 
ommendations Salammbo  had  ordered  the  slave  to  make  her 
magnificent ;  and  she  was  obeying  her  mistress  with  bar- 
baric taste  full  at  once  of  refinement  and  ingenuity. 

Over  a  first  delicate  and  vinous-colored  tunic  she  passed 
a  second  embroidered  with  birds'  feathers.  Golden  scales 
clung  to  her  hips,  and  from  this  broad  girdle  descended 
her  blue  flowing  silver-starred  drawers.  Next  Taanach  put 
upon  her  a  long  robe  made  of  the  cloth  of  the  country  of 
Seres,  white  and  streaked  with  green  lines.  On  the  edge 
of  her  shoulders  she  fastened  a  square  of  purple  weighted 
at  the  hem  with  grains  of  sandrastum ;  and  above  all  these 
garments  she  placed  a  black  mantle  with  a  flowing  train ; 
then  she  gazed  at  her,  and  proud  of  her  work  could  not 
help  saying :  — 

"You  will  not  be  more  beautiful  on  the  day  of  your 
bridal ! » 

(<  My  bridal !  B  repeated  Salammbo ;  she  was  musing  with 
her  elbow  resting  upon  the  ivory  chair. 

But  Taanach  set  up  before  her  a  copper  mirror,  which 
was  so  broad  and  high  that  she  could  see  herself  com- 
pletely in  it.  Then  she  rose,  and  with  a  light  touch  of 
her  finger  raised  a  lock  of  her  hair  which  was  falling  too 
low. 

Her  hair  was  covered  with  gold  dust,  was  crisped  in 
front,  and  hung  down  behind  over  her  back  in  long  twists 
ending  in  pearls.  The  brightness  of  the  candelabra  height- 
ened the  paint  on  her  cheeks,  the  gold  on  her  garments, 
and  the  whiteness  of  her  skin  ;  around  her  waist,  and  on 
her  arms,  hands,  and  toes,  she  had  such  a  wealth  of  gems 
that  the  mirror  sent  back  rays  upon  her  like  a  sun  —  and 
Salammbo,  standing  by  the  side  of  Taanach,  who  leaned 
over  to  see  her,  smiled  amid  this  dazzling  display. 


SALAMMBO  381 

Then  she  walked  to  and  fro  embarrassed  by  the  time  that 
was  still  left. 

Suddenly  the  crow  of  a  cock  resounded.  She  quickly 
pinned  a  long  yellow  veil  upon  her  hair,  passed  a  scarf 
around  her  neck,  thrust  her  feet  into  blue  leather  boots, 
and  said  to  Taanach  :  — 

(<  Go  and  see  whether  there  is  not  a  man  with  two  horses 
beneath  the  myrtles.8 

Taanach  had  scarcely  re-entered  when  she  was  descending 
the  galley  staircase. 

<(  Mistress  !  *  cried  the  nurse. 

Salammbo  turned  round  with  one  finger  on  her  mouth  as 
a  sign  for  discretion  and  immobility. 

Taanach  stole  softly  along  the  prows  to  the  foot  of  the 
terrace,  and  from  a  distance  she  could  distinguish  by  the 
light  of  the  moon  a  gigantic  shadow  walking  obliquely  in 
the  cypress  avenue  to  the  left  of  Salammbo,  a  sign  which 
presaged  death. 

Taanach  went  up  again  into  the  chamber.  She  threw 
herself  upon  the  ground  tearing  her  face  with  her  nails  ; 
she  plucked  out  her  hair,  and  uttered  piercing  shrieks  with 
all  her  might. 

It  occurred  to  her  that  they  might  be  heard ;  then  she 
became  silent,  sobbing  quite  softly  with  her  head  in  her 
hands  and  her  face  on  the  pavement. 


MOLOCH 

THE  Barbarians  had  no  need  of  a  circumvallation  on  the 
side  of  Africa,  for  it  was  theirs.  But  to  faciltate  the 
approach  to  the  walls,  the  entrenchments  bordering 
the  ditch  were  thrown  down.  Matho  next  divided  the  army 
into  great  semi-circles  so  as  to  encompass  Carthage  the 
better.  The  hoplites  of  the  Mercenaries  were  placed  in  the 
first  rank,  and  behind  them  the  slingers  and  horsemen  ; 
quite  at  the  back  were  the  baggage,  chariots,  and  horses ; 
and  the  engines  bristled  in  front  of  this  throng  at  a  dis- 
tance of  three  hundred  paces  from  the  towers. 


382  FLAUBERT 

Amid  the  infinite  variety  of  their  nomenclature  (which 
changed  several  times  in  the  course  of  the  centuries)  these 
machines  might  be  reduced  to  two  systems :  some  acted  like 
slings,  and  the  rest  like  bows. 

The  first,  which  were  the  catapults,  were  composed  of  a 
square  frame  with  two  vertical  uprights  and  a  horizontal 
bar.  In  its  anterior  portion  was  a  cylinder,  furnished  with 
cables,  which  held  back  a  great  beam  bearing  a  spoon  for 
the  reception  of  projectiles ;  its  base  was  caught  in  a  skein 
of  twisted  thread,  and  when  the  ropes  were  let  go  it  sprang 
up  and  struck  against  the  bar,  which,  checking  it  with  a 
shock,  multiplied  its  power. 

The  second  presented  a  more  complicated  mechanism.  A 
cross-bar  had  its  centre  fixed  on  a  little  pillar,  and  from 
this  point  of  junction  there  branched  off  at  right  angles  a 
sort  of  channel  ;  two  caps  containing  twists  of  horse-hair 
stood  at  the  extremities  of  the  cross-bar ;  two  small  beams 
were  fastened  to  them  to  hold  the  extremities  of  a  rope 
which  was  brought  to  the  bottom  of  the  channel  upon  a 
tablet  of  bronze.  This  metal  plate  was  released  by  a 
spring,  and  sliding  in  grooves  impelled  the  arrows. 

The  catapults  were  likewise  called  onagers,  after  the  wild 
asses  which  fling  up  stones  with  their  feet,  and  the  bal- 
listas  scorpions,  on  account  of  a  hook  which  stood  upon 
the  tablet,  and  being  lowered  by  a  blow  of  the  fist,  released 
the  spring. 

Their  construction  required  learned  calculations ;  the 
wood  selected  had  to  be  of  the  hardest  substance,  and  their 
gearing  all  of  brass ;  they  were  stretched  with  levers, 
tackle-blocks,  capstans  or  tympanums ;  the  direction  of  the 
shooting  was  changed  by  means  of  strong  pivots ;  they 
were  moved  forward  on  cylinders,  and  the  most  considera- 
ble of  them,  which  were  brought  piece  by  piece,  were  set 
up  in  front  of  the  enemy. 

Spendius  arranged  three  catapults  opposite  the  three 
principal  angles  ;  he  placed  a  ram  before  every  gate,  a  bal- 
lista  before  every  tower,  while  carroballistas  were  to  move 
about  in  the  rear.  But  it  was  necessary  to  protect  them 
against  the  fire  thrown  by  the  besieged,  and  first  of  all  to 
fill  up  the  trench  which  separated  them  from  the  walls. 


SALAMMBO  383 

They  pushed  forward  galleries  formed  of  hurdles  of  green 
reeds,  and  oaken  semi-circles  like  enormous  shields  gliding 
on  three  wheels ;  the  workers  were  sheltered  in  little  huts 
covered  with  raw  hides  and  stuffed  with  wrack ;  the  cata- 
pults and  ballistas  were  protected  by  rope  curtains  which 
had  been  steeped  in  vinegar  to  render  them  incombustible. 
The  women  and  children  went  to  procure  stones  on  the 
strand,  and  gathered  earth  with  their  hands  and  brought  it 
to  the  soldiers. 

The  Carthaginians  also  made  preparations. 

Hamilcar  had  speedily  reassured  them  by  declaring  that 
there  was  enough  water  left  in  the  cisterns  for  one  hundred 
and  twenty-three  days.  This  assertion,  together  with  his 
presence,  and  above  all  that  of  the  zaimph  in  their  midst, 
gave  them  good  hopes.  Carthage  recovered  from  its  de- 
jection ;  those  who  were  not  of  Chanaanitish  origin  were 
carried  away  by  the  passion  of  the  rest. 

The  slaves  were  armed,  the  arsenals  were  emptied,  and 
every  citizen  had  his  own  post  and  his  own  employment. 
Twelve  hundred  of  the  fugitives  had  survived,  and  the 
Suffet  made  them  all  captains ;  and  carpenters,  armorers, 
blacksmiths,  and  goldsmiths  were  intrusted  with  the  engines. 
The  Carthaginians  had  kept  a  few  in  spite  of  the  condi- 
tions of  the  peace  with  Rome.  These  were  repaired.  They 
understood  such  work. 

The  two  northern  and  eastern  sides,  being  protected  by 
the  sea  and  the  gulf,  remained  inaccessible.  On  the  wall 
fronting  the  Barbarians  they  collected  tree-trunks,  mill- 
stones, vases  filled  with  sulphur,  and  vats  filled  with  oil, 
and  built  furnaces.  Stones  were  heaped  up  on  the  plat- 
forms of  the  towers,  and  the  houses  bordering  immediately 
on  the  rampart  were  crammed  with  sand  in  order  to 
strengthen  it  and  increase  its  thickness. 

The  Barbarians  grew  angry  at  the  sight  of  these  prepara- 
tions. They  wished  to  fight  at  once.  The  weights  which 
they  put  into  the  catapults  were  so  extravagantly  heavy 
that  the  beams  broke,  and  the  attack  was  delayed. 

At  last  on  the  thirteenth  day  of  the  month  of  Schabar 
—  at  sunrise  —  a  great  blow  was  heard  at  the  gate  of  Kha- 
moa 


384  FLAUBERT 

Seventy-five  soldiers  were  pulling  at  ropes  arranged  at  the 
base  of  a  gigantic  beam  which  was  suspended  horizontally 
by  chains  hanging  from  a  framework,  and  which  termina- 
ted in  a  ram's  head  of  pure  brass.  It  had  been  swathed  in 
ox-hides ;  it  was  bound  at  intervals  with  iron  bracelets  ;  it 
was  thrice  as  thick  as  a  man's  body,  one  hundred  and 
twenty  cubits  long,  and  under  the  crowd  of  naked  arms 
pushing  it  forward  and  drawing  it  back,  it  moved  to  and 
fro  with  a  regular  oscillation. 

The  other  rams  before  the  other  gates  began  to  be  in 
motion.  Men  might  be  seen  mounting  from  step  to  step  in 
the  hollow  wheels  of  the  tympanums.  The  pulleys  and 
caps  grated,  the  rope  curtains  were  lowered,  and  showers  of 
stones  and  showers  of  arrows  burst  forth  simultaneously  ;  all 
the  scattered  slingers  ran  up.  Some  approached  the  ram- 
parts hiding  pots  of  resin  under  their  shields ;  then  they 
would  hurl  these  with  all  their  might.  This  hail  of  bullets, 
darts,  and  flames  passed  above  the  first  ranks  in  the  form 
of  a  curve  which  fell  behind  the  walls.  But  long  cranes,  used 
for  masting  vessels,  were  reared  on  the  summit  of  the  ram- 
parts ;  and  from  them  there  descended  some  of  those  enormous 
pincers  which  terminated  in  two  semi-circles  toothed  on  the 
inside.  They  bit  the  rams.  The  soldiers  clung  to  the 
beam  and  drew  it  back.  The  Carthaginians  hauled  in  order 
to  pull  it  up  ;  and  the  action  was  prolonged  until  the  evening. 

When  the  Mercenaries  resumed  their  task  on  the  follow- 
ing day,  the  tops  of  the  walls  were  completely  carpeted 
with  bales  of  cotton,  sails,  and  cushions  ;  the  battlements 
were  stopped  up  with  mats  ;  and  a  line  of  forks  and 
blades,  fixed  upon  sticks,  might  be  distinguished  among 
the  cranes  on  the  rampart.  A  furious  resistance  immedi- 
ately began. 

Trunks  of  trees  fastened  to  cables  fell  and  rose  alternately 
and  battered  the  rams  ;  cramps  hurled  by  the  ballistas  tore 
away  the  roofs  of  the  huts ;  and  streams  of  flints  and 
pebbles  poured  from  the  platforms  of  the  towers. 

At  last  the  rams  broke  the  gates  of  Khamon  and  Tagaste. 
But  the  Carthaginians  had  piled  up  such  an  abundance  of 
materials  on  the  inside  that  the  leaves  did  not  open.  They 
remained  standing. 


SALAMMBO  385 

Then  they  drove  augers  against  the  walls ;  these  were 
applied  to  the  joints  of  the  blocks,  so  as  to  detach  the 
latter.  The  engines  were  better  managed,  the  men  serving 
them  were  divided  into  squads,  they  were  worked  from 
morning  till  evening  without  interruption,  and  with  the 
monotonous  precision  of  a  weaver's  loom. 

Spendius  attended  to  them  untiringly.  It  was  he  who 
stretched  the  skins  of  the  ballistas.  In  order  that  the  twin 
tensions  might  completely  correspond,  the  ropes  as  they 
were  tightened  were  struck  on  the  right  and  left  alternately 
until  both  sides  gave  out  an  equal  sound.  Spendius  would 
mount  upon  the  timbers.  He  would  strike  the  ropes  softly 
with  the  extremity  of  his  foot,  and  strain  his  ears  like  a 
musician  tuning  a  lyre.  Then  when  the  beam  of  the  catapult 
rose,  when  the  pillar  of  the  ballista  trembled  with  the  shock 
of  the  spring,  when  the  stones  were  shooting  in  rays,  and 
the  darts  pouring  in  streams,  he  would  incline  his  whole 
body  and  fling  his  arms  into  the  air  as  though  to  follow  them. 

The  soldiers  admired  his  skill  and  executed  his  commands. 
In  the  gayety  of  their  work  they  gave  utterances  to  jests 
on  the  names  of  their  machines.  Thus  the  plyers  for  seiz- 
ing the  rams  were  called  (<  wolves,  *  and  the  galleries  were 
covered  with  *  vines  ;  *  they  were  lambs,  or  they  were  going 
to  gather  the  grapes  ;  and  as  they  loaded  their  pieces  they 
would  say  to  the  onagers :  (<  Come,  pick  well !  *  and  to  the 
scorpions :  <(  Pierce  them  to  the  heart  !  *  These  jokes, 
which  were  ever  the  same,  kept  up   their  courage. 

Nevertheless  the  machines  did  not  demolish  the  rampart. 
It  was  formed  of  two  walls  and  was  completely  filled  with 
earth.  The  upper  portions  were  beaten  down,  but  each 
time  the  besieged  raised  them  again.  Matho  ordered  the 
construction  of  wooden  towers  which  should  be  as  high  as 
the  towers  of  stone.  They  cast  turf,  stakes,  pebbles,  and 
chariots  with  their  wheels  into  the  trench  so  as  to  fill  it  up 
the  more  quickly ;  but  before  this  was  accomplished  the 
immense  throng  of  Barbarians  undulated  over  the  plain  with 
a  single  movement  and  came  beating  against  the  foot  of  the 
walls  like  an  overflowing  sea. 

They  moved  forward  the  rope  ladders,  straight  ladders, 
and  sambucas,  the  latter  consisting  of  two  poles  from  which 
25 


386  FLAUBERT 

a  series  of  bamboos  terminating  in  a  movable  bridge  were 
lowered  by  means  of  tackling.  They  formed  numerous 
straight  lines  resting  against  the  wall,  and  the  Mercenaries 
mounted  them  in  files,  holding  their  weapons  in  their 
hands.  Not  a  Carthaginian  showed  himself ;  already  two- 
thirds  of  the  rampart  had  been  covered.  Then  the  battle- 
ments opened,  vomiting  flames  and  smoke  like  dragon  jaws; 
the  sand  scattered  and  entered  the  joints  of  their  armor ; 
the  petroleum  fastened  on  their  garments ;  the  liquid  lead 
hopped  on  their  helmets  and  made  holes  in  their  flesh  ;  a  rain 
of  sparks  splashed  against  their  faces,  and  eyeless  orbits  seemed 
to  weep  tears  as  big  as  almonds.  There  were  men  all  yellow 
with  oil,  with  their  hair  in  flames.  They  began  to  run  and  set 
fire  to  the  rest.  They  were  extinguished  with  mantles  steeped 
in  blood,  which  were  thrown  from  a  distance  over  their  faces. 
Some  who  had  no  wounds  remained  motionless,  stiffer  than 
stakes,  their  mouths  open  and  their  arms  outspread. 

The  assault  was  renewed  for  several  days  in  succession,  the 
Mercenaries  hoping  to  triumph  by  extraordinary  energy  and 
audacity. 

Sometimes  a  man  raised  on  the  shoulders  of  another 
would  drive  a  pin  between  the  stones,  and  then  making  use 
of  it  as  a  step  to  reach  further,  would  place  a  second  and 
a  third ;  and,  protected  by  the  edge  of  the  battlements, 
which  stood  out  from  the  wall,  they  would  gradually  raise 
themselves  in  this  way ;  but  on  reaching  a  certain  height 
they  always  fell  back  again.  The  great  trench  was  full  to 
overflowing ;  the  wounded  were  massed  pell-mell  with  the 
dead  and  dying  beneath  the  footsteps  of  the  living.  Cal- 
cined trunks  formed  black  spots  amid  opened  entrails,  scat- 
tered brains,  and  pools  of  blood  ;  and  arms  and  legs  projecting 
half  way  out  of  a  heap,  would  stand  straight  up  like  props 
in  a  burning  vineyard. 

The  ladders  proving  insufficient  the  tollenos  were  brought 
into  requisition  —  instruments  consisting  of  a  long  beam  set 
transversely  upon  another,  and  bearing  at  its  extremity  a  quad- 
rangular basket  which  would  hold  thirty  foot-soldiers  with  their 
weapons. 

Matho  wished  to  ascend  in  the  first  that  was  ready. 
Spendius  stopped  him. 


SALAMMBO  387 

Some  men  bent  over  a  capstan ;  the  great  beam  rose,  be- 
came horizontal,  reared  itself  almost  vertically,  and  being 
overweighted  at  the  end,  bent  like  a  huge  reed.  The  sol- 
diers, who  were  crowded  together,  were  hidden  up  to  their 
chins ;  only  their  helmet-plumes  could  be  seen.  At  last 
when  it  was  twenty  cubits  high  in  the  air  it  turned  several 
times  to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  and  then  was  depressed  ; 
and  like  a  giant  arm  holding  a  cohort  of  pigmies  in  its 
hand,  it  laid  the  basketful  of  men  upon  the  edge  of  the 
wall.     They  leaped  into  the  crowd  and  never  returned. 

All  the  other  tollenos  were  speedily  made  ready.  But  a 
hundred  times  as  many  would  have  been  needed  for  the 
capture  of  the  town.  They  were  utilized  in  a  murderous 
fashion :  Ethiopian  archers  were  placed  in  the  baskets ; 
then,  the  cables  having  been  fastened,  they  remained  sus- 
pended and  shot  poisoned  arrows.  The  fifty  tollenos  com- 
manding the  battlements  thus  surrounded  Carthage  like 
monstrous  vultures ;  and  the  Negroes  laughed  to  see  the 
guards  on  the  rampart  dying  in  grievous  convulsions. 

Hamilcar  sent  hoplites  to  these  posts,  and  every  morning 
made  them  drink  the  juice  of  certain  herbs  which  protected 
them  against  the  poison. 

One  evening  when  it  was  dark  he  embarked  the  best  of 
his  soldiers  on  lighters  and  planks,  and  turning  to  the  right 
of  the  harbor,  disembarked  on  the  Taenia.  Then  he  ad- 
vanced to  the  first  lines  of  the  Barbarians,  and  taking  them 
in  flank,  made  a  great  slaughter.  Men  hanging  to  ropes 
would  descend  from  the  top  of  the  wall  with  torches  in 
their  hands,  burn  the  works  of  the  Mercenaries,  and  then 
mount  up  again. 

Matho  was  exasperated ;  every  obstacle  strengthened  his 
wrath,  which  led  him  into  terrible  extravagances.  He  men- 
tally summoned  Salammbo  to  an  interview  ;  then  he  waited. 
She  did  not  come ;  this  seemed  to  him  a  fresh  piece  of 
treachery  —  and  henceforth  he  execrated  her.  If  he  had 
seen  her  corpse  he  would  perhaps  have  gone  away.  He 
doubled  the  outposts,  he  planted  forks  at  the  foot  of  the 
rampart,  he  drove  caltrops  into  the  ground,  and  he  com- 
manded the  Libyans  to  bring  him  a  whole  forest  that  he 
might  set  it  on  fire  and  burn  Carthage  like  a  den  of  foxes. 


388  FLAUBERT 

Spendius  went  on  obstinately  with  the  siege.  He  sought 
to  invent  terrible  machines  such  as  had  never  before  been 
constructed. 

The  other  Barbarians,  encamped  at  a  distance  on  the 
isthmus,  were  amazed  at  these  delays ;  they  murmured,  and 
they  were  let  loose. 

Then  they  rushed  with  their  cutlasses  and  javelins,  and 
beat  against  the  gates  with  them.  But  the  nakedness  of 
their  bodies  facilitating  the  infliction  of  wounds,  the  Car- 
thaginians massacred  them  freely  ;  and  the  Mercenaries  re- 
joiced at  it,  no  doubt  through  jealousy  about  the  plunder. 
Hence  there  resulted  quarrels  and  combats  between  them. 
Then,  the  country  having  been  ravaged,  provisions  were 
soon  scarce.  They  grew  disheartened.  Numerous  hordes 
went  away,  but  the  crowd  was  so  great  that  the  loss  was 
not  apparent. 

The  best  of  them  tried  to  dig  mines,  but  the  earth,  be- 
ing badly  supported,  fell  in.  They  began  again  in  other 
places,  but  Hamilcar  always  guessed  the  direction  that  they 
were  taking  by  holding  his  ear  against  a  bronze  shield. 
He  bored  counter-mines  beneath  the  path  along  which  the 
wooden  towers  were  to  move,  and  when  they  were  pushed 
forward  they  sank  into  the  holes. 

At  last  all  recognized  that  the  town  was  impregnable,  un- 
less a  long  terrace  were  raised  to  the  same  height  as  the 
walls,  so  as  to  enable  them  to  fight  on  the  same  level. 
The  top  of  it  should  be  paved  so  that  the  machines  might 
be  rolled  along.  Then  Carthage  would  find  it  quite  im- 
possible to  resist. 

The  town  was  beginning  to  suffer  from  thirst.  The 
water  which  was  worth  two  kesitahs  the  bath  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  siege  was  now  sold  for  a  shekel  of  silver  ;  the 
stores  of  meat  and  corn  were  also  becoming  exhausted  ; 
there  was  a  dread  of  famine,  and  some  even  began  to  speak 
of  useless  mouths,  which  terrified  every  one. 

From  the  square  of  Khamou  to  the  temple  of  Melkarth 
the  streets  were  cumbered  with  corpses ;  and,  as  it  was  the 
end  of  the  summer,  the  combatants  were  annoyed  by  great 
black  flies.  Old  men  carried  off  the  wounded,  and  the  de- 
vout continued  the  fictitious  funerals  of   their   relatives  and 


SALAMMBO  389 

friends  who  had  died  far  away  during  the  war.  Waxen 
statues  with  clothes  and  hair  were  displayed  across  the 
gates.  They  melted  in  the  heat  of  the  tapers  burning  be- 
side them ;  the  paint  flowed  down  upon  their  shoulders, 
and  tears  streamed  over  the  faces  of  the  living,  as  they 
chanted  mournful  songs  beside  them.  The  crowd  mean- 
while ran  to  and  fro ;  armed  bands  passed  ;  captains  shouted 
orders,  while  the  shock  of  the  rams  beating  against  the  ram- 
part was  constantly  heard. 

The  temperature  became  so  heavy  that  the  bodies  swelled 
and  would  no  longer  fit  into  the  coffins.  They  were  burned 
in  the  centre  of  the  courts.  But  the  fires,  being  too  much 
confined,  kindled  the  neighboring  walls,  and  long  flames 
suddenly  burst  from  the  houses  like  blood  spurting  from 
an  artery.  Thus,  Moloch  was  in  possession  of  Carthage  ; 
he  clasped  the  ramparts,  he  rolled  through  the  streets,  he 
devoured  the  very  corpses. 

Men  wearing  cloaks  made  of  collected  rags  in  token  of 
despair,  stationed  themselves  at  the  corners  of  the  cross- 
ways.  They  declaimed  against  the  Ancients  and  against 
Hamilcar,  predicted  complete  ruin  to  the  people,  and  in- 
vited them  to  universal  destruction  and  license.  The  most 
dangerous  were  the  henbane-drinkers ;  in  their  crisis  they 
believed  themselves  wild  beasts,  and  leaped  upon  the 
passers-by  to  rend  them.  Mobs  formed  around  them,  and 
the  defense  of  Carthage  was  forgotten.  The  Suffet  devised 
the  payment  of  others  to  support  his  policy. 

In  order  to  retain  the  Genius  of  the  gods  within  the 
town  their  images  had  been  covered  with  chains.  Black 
veils  were  placed  upon  the  Pataec  gods,  and  hair  cloths 
around  the  altars ;  and  attempts  were  made  to  excite  the 
pride  and  jealousy  of  the  Baals  by  singing  in  their  ears : 
<(  Thou  art  about  to  suffer  thyself  to  be  vanquished  !  Are 
the  others  perchance  more  strong  ?  Show  thyself  !  aid  us ! 
that  the  people  may  not  say  :  ( Where  are  now  their 
gods  ?  > » 

The  colleges  of  the  pontiffs  were  agitated  by  unceasing 
anxiety.  Those  of  Rabetna  were  especially  afraid  —  the 
restoration  of  the  zai'mph  having  been  of  no  avail.  They 
kept  themselves    shut  up  in  the  third   inclosure  which   was 


39©  FLAUBERT 

as  impregnable  as  a  fortress.  Only  one  among  them,  the 
high  priest  Schahabarim,  ventured  to  go  out. 

He  used  to  visit  Salammbo.  But  he  would  either  remain 
perfectly  silent,  gazing  at  her  with  fixed  eyeballs,  or  else 
would  be  lavish  of  words,  and  the  reproaches  that  he 
uttered  were  harder  than  ever. 

With  inconceivable  inconsistency  he  could  not  forgive  the 
young  girl  for  having  followed  his  commands ;  Schahabarim 
had  guessed  all,  and  this  haunting  thought  revived  the 
jealousies  of  his  impotence.  He  accused  her  of  being  the 
cause  of  the  war.  Matho,  according  to  him,  was  besieging 
Carthage  to  recover  the  zaimph  ;  and  he  poured  out  impre- 
cations and  sarcasms  upon  this  Barbarian  who  pretended 
to  the  possession  of  holy  things.  Yet  it  was  not  this  that 
the  priest  wished  to  say. 

But  just  now  Salammbo  felt  no  terror  of  him.  The  an- 
guish which  she  used  formerly  to  suffer  had  left  her.  A 
strange  peacefulness  possessed  her.  Her  gaze  was  less 
wandering,  and  shone  with  limpid  fire. 

Meanwhile  the  Python  had  become  ill  again  ;  and  as 
Salammbo,  on  the  contrary,  appeared  to  be  recovering,  old 
Taanach  rejoiced  in  the  conviction  that  by  its  decline  it 
was  taking  away  the  languor  of  her  mistress. 

One  morning  she  found  it  coiled  up  behind  the  bed  of 
ox-hides,  colder  than  marble,  and  with  its  head  hidden 
by  a  heap  of  worms.  Her  cries  brought  Salammbo 
to  the  spot.  She  turned  it  over  for  awhile  with  the 
tip  of  her  sandal,  and  the  slave  was  amazed  at  her  insen- 
sibility. 

Hamilcar's  daughter  no  longer  prolonged  her  fasts  with 
so  much  fervor.  She  passed  whole  days  on  the  top  of  her 
terrace,  leaning  her  elbows  against  the  balustrade,  and 
amusing  herself  by  looking  out  before  her.  The  summits  of 
the  walls  at  the  end  of  the  town  cut  uneven  zigzags  upon 
the  sky,  and  the  lances  of  the  sentries  formed  what  was 
like  a  border  of  corn-ears  throughout  their  length.  Further 
away  she  could  see  the  manoeuvres  of  the  Barbarians  be- 
tween the  towers ;  on  days  when  the  siege  was  interrupted 
she  could  even  distinguish  their  occupations.  They  mended 
their  weapons,  greased  their  hair,    and   washed  their  blood- 


SALAMMBO  391 

stained  arms  in  the  sea ;  the  tents  were  closed  ;  the  beasts 
of  burden  were  feeding  ;  and  in  the  distance  the  scythes  of 
the  chariots  which  were  all  ranged  in  a  semi-circle,  looked 
like  a  silver  scimitar  lying  at  the  base  of  the  moun- 
tains. She  was  waiting  for  Narr'  Havas,  her  betrothed. 
In  spite  of  her  hatred  she  would  have  liked  to  have 
seen  Matho  again.  Of  all  the  Carthaginians  she  was  per- 
haps the  only  one  who  would  have  spoken  to  him  without 
fear. 

Her  father  often  came  into  her  room.  He  would  sit 
down  panting  on  the  cushions,  and  gaze  at  her  with  an  al- 
most tender  look,  as  though  he  found  rest  from  his  fatigues 
in  the  sight  of  her.  He  sometimes  questioned  her  about 
her  journey  to  the  camp  of  the  Mercenaries.  He  even 
asked  her  whether  an}'  one  had  urged  her  to  it ;  and  with 
a  shake  of  the  head  she  answered,  No  —  so  proud  was 
Salammbo  of  having  saved  the  zaimph. 

But  the  Suffet  always  came  back  to  Matho  under  pre- 
tense of  making  military  inquiries.  He  could  not  under- 
stand how  the  hours  which  she  had  spent  in  the  tent  had 
been  employed.  Salammbo,  in  fact,  said  nothing  about 
Gisco ;  for  as  words  had  an  effective  power  in  themselves, 
curses,  if  reported  to  any  one,  might  be  turned  against 
him  ;  and  she  was  silent  about  her  wish  to  assassinate,  lest 
she  should  be  blamed  for  not  having  yielded  to  it.  She 
said  that  the  schalischim  appeared  furious,  that  he  had 
shouted  a  great  deal,  and  that  he  had  then  fallen  asleep. 
Salammbo  told  no  more,  through  shame  perhaps,  or  else 
because  she  was  led  by  her  extreme  ingenuousness  to  at- 
tach but  little  importance  to  the  soldier's  kisses.  More- 
over, it  all  floated  through  her  head  in  a  melancholy  and 
misty  fashion,  like  the  recollection  of  a  depressing  dream  ; 
and  she  would  not  have  known  in  what  way  or  in  what 
words  to  express  it. 

One  evening  when  they  were  thus  face  to  face  with  each 
other,  Taanach  came  in  looking  quite  scared.  An  old  man 
with  a  child  was  yonder  in  the  courts,  and  wished  to  see 
the  Suffet. 

Hamilcar  turned  pale,   and  then  quickly  replied  :  — 

(<  Let  him  come  up  !  " 


392  FLAUBERT 

Iddibal  entered  without  prostrating  himself.  He  held  a 
young  boy,  covered  with  a  goat's  hair  cloak,  by  the  hand, 
and  at  once  raised  the  hood  which  screened  his  face. 

*  Here  he  is,  Master  !     Take  him  !  * 

The  Suffet  and  the  slave  went  into  a  corner  of  the  room. 

The  child  remained  in  the  centre  standing  upright,  and 
with  a  gaze  of  attention  rather  than  of  astonishment  he 
surveyed  the  ceiling,  the  furniture,  the  pearl  necklaces 
trailing  on  the  purple  draperies,  and  the  majestic  maiden 
who  was  bending  over  toward  him. 

He  was  perhaps  ten  years  old,  and  was  not  taller  than 
a  Roman  sword.  His  curly  hair  shaded  his  swelling  fore- 
head. His  eyeballs  looked  as  though  they  were  seeking 
for  space.  The  nostrils  of  his  delicate  nose  were  broad 
and  palpitating,  and  upon  his  whole  person  was  displayed 
the  indefinable  splendor  of  those  who  are  destined  to  great 
enterprises.  When  he  had  cast  aside  his  extremely  heavy 
cloak,  he  remained  clad  in  a  lynx  skin,  which  was  fastened 
about  his  waist,  and  he  rested  his  little  naked  feet,  which 
were  all  white  with  dust,  resolutely  upon  the  pavement. 
But  he  no  doubt  divined  that  important  matters  were 
under  discussion,  for  he  stood  motionless,  with  one  hand 
behind  his  back,  his  chin  lowered,  and  a  finger  in  his 
mouth. 

At  last  Hamilcar  attracted  Salammbo  with  a  sign  and 
said  to  her  in  a  low  voice:  — 

*  You  will  keep  him  with  you,  you  understand  !  No  one, 
even  though  belonging  to  the  house,  must  know  of  his  ex- 
istence !  * 

Then,  behind  the  door,  he  again  asked  Iddibal  whether 
he  was  quite  sure  that  they  had  not  been  noticed. 
tt  No ! w  said  the  slave,  "the  streets  were  empty.* 
As  the  war  filled  all  the  provinces  he  had  feared  for  his 
master's  son.  Then,  not  knowing  where  to  hide  him,  he 
had  come  along  the  coasts  in  a  sloop,  and  for  three  days 
Iddibal  had  been  tacking  about  in  the  gulf  and  watching 
the  ramparts.  At  last,  that  evening,  as  the  environs  of 
Khamon  seemed  to  be  deserted,  he  had  passed  briskly 
through  the  channel  and  landed  near  the  arsenal,  the  en- 
trance to  the  harbor  being  free. 


SALAMMBO  393 

But  soon  the  Barbarians  posted  an  immense  raft  in  front 
of  it  in  order  to  prevent  the  Carthaginians  from  coming 
out.  They  were  again  rearing  the  wooden  towers,  and  the 
terrace  was  rising  at  the  same  time. 

Outside  communications  were  cut  off  and  an  intolerable 
famine  set  in. 

The  besieged  killed  all  the  dogs,  all  the  mules,  all  the 
asses,  and  then  the  fifteen  elephants  which  the  Suffet  had 
brought  back.  The  lions  of  the  temple  of  Moloch  had  be- 
come ferocious,  and  the  hierodules  no  longer  durst  approach 
them.  They  were  fed  at  first  with  the  wounded  Barbarians  ; 
then  they  were  thrown  corpses  that  were  still  warm  ;  they 
refused  them,  and  they  all  died.  People  wandered  in  the 
twilight  along  the  old  enclosures,  and  gathered  grass  and 
flowers  among  the  stones  to  boil  them  in  wine,  wine  being 
cheaper  than  water.  Others  crept  as  far  as  the  enemy's 
outposts,  and  entered  the  tents  to  steal  food,  and  the  stu- 
pefied Barbarians  sometimes  allowed  them  to  return.  At  last 
a  day  arrived  when  the  Ancients  resolved  to  slaughter  the 
horses  of  Eschmoun  privately.  They  were  holy  animals  whose 
manes  were  plaited  by  the  pontiffs  with  gold  ribbons,  and 
whose  existence  denoted  the  motion  of  the  sun  —  the  idea 
of  fire  in  its  most  exalted  form.  Their  flesh  was  cut  into 
equal  portions  and  buried  behind  the  altar.  Then  every 
evening  the  Ancients,  alleging  some  act  of  devotion,  would 
go  up  to  the  temple  and  regale  themselves  in  secret,  and 
each  would  take  away  a  piece  beneath  his  tunic  for  his 
children.  In  the  deserted  quarters  remote  from  the  walls, 
the  inhabitants,  whose  misery  was  not  so  great,  had  barri- 
caded themselves  through  fear  of  the  rest. 

The  stones  from  the  catapults,  and  the  demolitions  com- 
manded for  purposes  of  defense,  had  accumulated  heaps  of 
ruins  in  the  middle  of  the  streets.  At  the  quietest  times 
masses  of  people  would  suddenly  rush  along  with  shouts ; 
and  from  the  top  of  the  Acropolis  the  conflagrations  were 
like  purple  rags  scattered  upon  the  terraces  and  twisted  by 
the  wind. 

The  three  great  catapults  did  not  stop  in  spite  of  all 
these  works.  Their  ravages  were  extraordinary :  thus  a 
man's  head  rebounded  from  the  pediment  of  the  Syssitia  ;  a 


394  FLAUBERT 

woman  who  was  being  confined  in  the  street  of  Kinisdo 
was  crushed  by  a  block  of  marble,  and  her  child  was  car- 
ried with  the  bed  as  far  as  the  crossways  of  Cinasyn,  where 
the  coverlet  was  found. 

The  most  annoying  were  the  bullets  of  the  slingers. 
They  fell  upon  the  roofs,  and  in  the  gardens,  and  in 
the  middle  of  the  courts,  while  people  were  at  table  before 
a  slender  meal  with  their  hearts  big  with  sighs.  These 
cruel  projectiles  bore  engraved  letters  which  stamped  them- 
selves upon  the  flesh  —  and  insults  might  be  read  on  corpses 
such  as  "pig,"  (<  jackal,8  <(  vermin,*  and  sometimes  jests: 
(<  catch  it !  *  or  <(  I  have  well  deserved  it  !  * 

The  portion  of  the  rampart  which  extended  from  the 
corners  of  the  harbors  to  the  height  of  the  cisterns  was 
broken  down.  Then  the  people  of  Malqua  found  them- 
selves caught  between  the  old  inclosure  of  Byrsa  behind, 
and  the  Barbarians  in  front.  But  there  was  enough  to  be 
done  in  thickening  the  wall  and  making  it  as  high  as  pos- 
sible without  troubling  about  them ;  they  were  abandoned  ; 
all  perished  ;  and  although  they  were  generally  hated,  Hamil- 
car  came  to  be  greatly  abhorred. 

On  the  morrow  he  opened  the  pits  in  which  he  kept 
stores  of  corn,  and  his  stewards  gave  it  to  the  people. 
For  three  days  they  gorged  themselves. 

Their  thirst,  however,  only  became  the  more  intolerable, 
and  they  could  constantly  see  before  them  the  long  cascade 
formed  by  the  clear  falling  water  of  the  aqueduct.  A  thin 
vapor,  with  a  rainbow  beside  it,  went  up  from  its  base, 
beneath  the  rays  of  the  sun,  and  a  stream  curving  through 
the  plain  fell  into  the  gulf. 

Hamilcar  did  not  give  way.  He  was  reckoning  upon  an 
event,   upon  something  decisive  and  extraordinary. 

His  own  slaves  tore  off  the  silver  plates  from  the  temple 
of  Melkarth  ;  four  long  boats  Were  drawn  out  of  the  har- 
bor, they  were  brought  by  means  of  capstans  to  the  foot  of 
the  Mappalian  quarter,  the  wall  facing  the  shore  was  bored, 
and  they  set  out  for  the  Gauls  to  buy  Mercenaries  there  at 
no  matter  what  price.  Nevertheless,  Hamilcar  was  dis- 
tressed at  his  inability  to  communicate  with  the  king  of 
the  Numidians,  for  he  knew  that    he   was   behind  the  Bar- 


SALAMMBO  395 

barians,  and  ready  to  fall  upon  them.  But  Narr'  Havas, 
being  too  weak,  was  not  going  to  make  any  venture  alone ; 
and  the  Suffet  had  the  rampart  raised  twelve  palms  higher, 
all  the  material  in  the  arsenals  piled  up  in  the  Acropolis, 
and  the  machines  repaired  once  more. 

Sinews  taken  from  bulls'  necks,  or  else  stags'  ham- 
strings, were  commonly  employed  for  the  twists  of  the  cat- 
apults. However,  neither  stags  nor  bulls  were  in  existence 
in  Carthage.  Hamilcar  asked  the  Ancients  for  the  hair  of 
their  wives ;  all  sacrificed  it,  but  the  quantity  was  not 
sufficient.  In  the  buildings  of  the  Syssitia  there  were 
twelve  hundred  marriageable  slaves  destined  for  prostitution  in 
Greece  and  Italy,  and  their  hair,  having  been  rendered  elastic 
by  the  use  of  unguents,  was  wonderfully  well  adapted  for 
engines  of  war.  But  the  subsequent  loss  would  be  too 
great.  Accordingly  it  was  decided  that  a  choice  should  be 
made  of  the  finest  heads  of  hair  among  the  wives  of  the 
plebeians.  Careless  of  their  country's  needs  they  shrieked 
in  despair  when  the  servants  of  the  Hundred  came  with 
scissors  to  lay  hands  upon  them. 

The  Barbarians  were  animated  with  increased  fury.  They 
could  be  seen  in  the  distance  taking  fat  from  the  dead  to 
grease  their  machines,  while  others  pulled  out  the  nails 
and  stitched  them  end  to  end  to  make  cuirasses.  They  de- 
vised a  plan  of  putting  into  the  catapults  vessels  filled  with 
serpents  which  had  been  brought  by  the  Negroes ;  the  clay 
pots  broke  on  the  flagstones,  the  serpents  ran  about, 
seemed  to  multiply,  and,  so  numerous  were  they,  to  issue 
naturally  from  the  walls.  Then  the  Barbarians,  not  satis- 
fied with  their  invention,  improved  upon  it ;  they  hurled  all 
kinds  of  filth,  human  excrements,  pieces  of  carrion,  corpses. 
The  plague  reappeared.  The  teeth  of  the  Carthaginians  fell 
out  of  their  mouths,  and  their  gums  were  discolored  like 
those  of  camels  after  too  long  a  journey. 

The  machines  were  set  up  on  the  terrace,  although  the 
latter  did  not  yet  reach  everywhere  to  the  height  of  the 
rampart.  Before  the  twenty-three  towers  on  the  fortifica- 
tions stood  twenty-three  others  of  wood.  All  the  tollenos 
were  mounted  again,  and  in  the  centre,  a  little  further 
back,  appeared  the  formidable  helepolis  of   Demetrius   Poli- 


396  FLAUBERT 

orcetes,  which  Spendius  had  at  last  reconstructed.  Of 
pyramidal  shape,  like  the  pharos  of  Alexandria,  it  was  one 
hundred  and  thirty  cubits  high  and  twenty-three  wide,  with 
nine  stories,  diminishing  as  they  approached  the  summit, 
and  protected  by  scales  of  brass  ;  they  were  pierced  with 
numerous  doors  and  were  filled  with  soldiers,  and  on  the 
upper  platform  there  stood  a  catapult  flanked  by  two  bal- 
listas. 

Then  Hamilcar  planted  crosses  for  those  who  should 
speak  of  surrender,  and  even  the  women  were  brigaded. 
The  people  lay  in  the  streets,  and    waited    full  of   distress. 

Then  one  morning  before  sunrise  (it  was  the  seventh  day 
of  the  month  of  Nyssan)  they  heard  a  great  shout  uttered 
by  all  the  Barbarians  simultaneously  ;  the  leaden-tubed 
trumpets  pealed,  and  the  great  Paphlagonian  horns  bellowed 
like  bulls.     All  rose  and  ran  to  the  rampart. 

A  forest  of  lances,  pikes  and  swords  bristled  at  its  base. 
It  leaped  against  the  walls,  the  ladders  grappled  them  ; 
and  Barbarians'  heads  appeared  in  the  intervals  of  the 
battlements. 

Beams  supported  by  long  files  of  men  were  battering  at 
the  gates ;  and,  in  order  to  demolish  the  wall  at  places 
where  the  terrace  was  wanting,  the  Mercenaries  came  up  in 
serried  cohorts,  the  first  line  crawling,  the  second  bending 
their  hams,  and  the  others  rising  in  succession  to  the  last 
who  stood  upright ;  while  elsewhere,  in  order  to  climb  up, 
the  tallest  advanced  in  front  and  the  lowest  in  the  rear, 
and  all  rested  their  shields  upon  their  helmets  with  their 
left  arms,  joining  them  together  at  the  edges  so  tightly 
that  they  might  have  been  taken  for  an  assemblage  of 
large  tortoises.  The  projectiles  slid  over  these  oblique 
masses. 

The  Carthaginians  threw  down  mill-stones,  pestles,  vats, 
casks,  beds,  everything  that  could  serve  as  a  weight  and 
could  knock  down.  Some  watched  at  the  embrasures  with 
fishermen's  nets,  and  when  the  Barbarian  arrived  he  found 
himself  caught  in  the  meshes,  and  struggled  like  a  fish. 
They  demolished  their  own  battlements ;  portions  of  wall 
fell  down  raising  a  great  dust ;  and  as  the  catapults  on  the 
terrace  were  shooting   over   against  one   another,  the  stones 


SALAMMBO  397 

would  strike  together  and  shiver  into  a  thousand  pieces,  mak- 
ing a  copious  shower  upon  the  combatants. 

Soon  the  two  crowds  formed  but  one  great  chain  of 
human  bodies  ;  it  overflowed  into  the  intervals  in  the  ter- 
race, and,  somewhat  looser  at  the  two  extremities,  swayed 
perpetually  without  advancing.  They  clasped  one  another, 
lying  flat  on  the  ground  like  wrestlers.  They  crushed  one 
another.  The  women  leaned  over  the  battlements  and 
shrieked.  They  were  dragged  away  by  their  veils,  and 
the  whiteness  of  their  suddenly  uncovered  sides  shone  in 
the  arms  of  the  Negroes  as  the  latter  buried  their  daggers 
in  them.  Some  corpses  did  not  fall,  being  too  much  pressed 
by  the  crowd,  and,  supported  by  the  shoulders  of  their 
companions,  advanced  for  some  minutes  quite  upright  and 
with  staring  eyes.  Some  who  had  both  temples  pierced  by 
a  javelin  swayed  their  heads  about  like  bears.  Mouths, 
opened  to  shout,  remained  gaping ;  several  hands  flew 
through  the  air.  Mighty  blows  were  dealt,  which  were 
long  talked  of  by  the  survivors. 

Meanwhile  arrows  darted  from  the  towers  of  wood  and 
stone.  The  tollenos  moved  their  long  yards  rapidly  ;  and  as 
the  Barbarians  had  sacked  the  old  cemetery  of  the  aborigines 
beneath  the  catacombs,  they  hurled  the  tombstones  against 
the  Carthaginians.  Sometimes  the  cables  broke  under  the 
weight  of  too  heavy  baskets,  and  masses  of  men,  all  with 
uplifted  arms,  would  fall  from  the  sky. 

Up  to  the  middle  of  the  day  the  veterans  had  attacked 
the  Taenia  fiercely  in  order  to  penetrate  into  the  harbor  and 
destroy  the  fleet.  Hamilcar  had  a  fire  of  damp  straw  lit 
upon  the  roofing  of  Khamon,  and  as  the  smoke  blinded 
them  they  fell  back  to  the  left,  and  came  to  swell  the 
horrible  rout  which  was  pressing  forward  in  Malqua.  Some 
syntagmata  composed  of  sturdy  men,  chosen  expressly  for 
the  purpose,  had  broken  in  three  gates.  They  were  checked 
by  lofty  barriers  made  of  planks  studded  with  nails,  but  a 
fourth  yielded  easily ;  they  dashed  over  it  at  a  run  and 
rolled  into  a  pit  in  which  there  were  hidden  snares.  At 
the  south-west  angle  Autaritus  and  his  men  broke  down  the 
rampart,  the  fissure  in  which  had  been  stopped  up  with 
bricks.      The    ground    behind    rose,    and    they    climbed    it 


398  FLAUBERT 

nimbly.  But  on  the  top  they  found  a  second  wall  com- 
posed of  stones  and  long  beams  lying  quite  flat  and  alter- 
nating like  the  squares  on  a  chess  board.  It  was  a  Gaulish 
fashion,  and  had  been  adapted  by  the  Suffet  to  the  require- 
ments of  the  situation  ;  the  Gauls  imagined  themselves  be- 
fore a  town  in  their  own  country.  Their  attack  was  weak, 
and  they  were  repulsed. 

All  the  roundway,  from  the  street  of  Khamon  as  far  as 
the  Green  Market,  now  belonged  to  the  Barbarians,  and 
the  Samnites  were  finishing  off  the  dying  with  blows  of 
stakes ;  or  else  with  one  foot  on  the  wall  were  gazing  down 
at  the  smoking  ruins  beneath  them,  and  the  battle  which 
was  beginning  again  in  the  distance. 

The  slingers,  who  were  distributed  through  the  rear,  were 
still  shooting.  But  the  springs  of  the  Acarnanian  slings 
had  broken  from  use,  and  many  were  throwing  stones  with 
the  hand  like  shepherds ;  the  rest  hurled  leaden  bullets 
with  the  handle  of  a  whip.  Zarxas,  his  shoulders  covered 
with  his  long,  black  hair,  went  about  everywhere,  and  led 
on  the  Barbarians.  Two  pouches  hung  at  his  hips ;  he 
thrust  his  left  hand  into  them  continually,  while  his  right 
arm  whirled  round  like  a  chariot- wheel. 

Matho  had  at  first  refrained  from  fighting,  the  better  to 
command  all  the  Barbarians  at  once.  He  had  been  seen 
along  the  gulf  with  the  Mercenaries,  near  the  lagoon  with 
the  Numidians,  and  on  the  shores  of  the  lake  among  the 
Negroes,  and  from  the  back  part  of  the  plain  he  urged  for- 
ward masses  of  soldiers  who  came  ceaselessly  against  the 
ramparts.  By  degrees  he  had  drawn  near ;  the  smell  of 
blood,  the  sight  of  carnage,  and  the  tumult  of  clarions  had 
at  last  made  his  heart  leap.  Then  he  had  gone  back  into 
his  tent,  and  throwing  off  his  cuirass  had  taken  his  lion's 
skin  as  being  more  convenient  for  battle.  The  snout  fitted 
upon  his  head,  bordering  his  face  with  a  circle  of  fangs ; 
the  two  fore-paws  were  crossed  upon  his  breast,  and  the 
claws  of  the  hinder  ones  fell  beneath  his  knees. 

He  had  kept  on  his  strong  waist-belt,  wherein  gleamed  a 
two-edged  axe,  and  with  his  great  sword  in  both  hands  he 
had  dashed  impetuously  through  the  breach.  Like  a  pruner 
cutting  willow-branches  and  trying  to  strike  off  as  much  as 


SALAMMBO  399 

possible  so  as  to  make  the  more  money,  he  marched  along 
mowing  down  the  Carthaginians  around  him.  Those  who 
tried  to  seize  him  in  flank  he  knocked  down  with  blows  of 
the  pommel ;  when  they  attacked  him  in  front  he  ran  them 
through  ;  if  they  fled  he  clove  them.  Two  men  leaped  to- 
gether upon  his  back  ;  he  bounded  backward  against  a  gate 
and  crushed  them.  His  sword  fell  and  rose.  It  shivered 
on  the  angle  of  a  wall.  Then  he  took  his  heavy  axe,  and 
front  and  rear  he  ripped  up  the  Carthaginians  like  a  flock 
of  sheep.  They  scattered  more  and  more,  and  he  was 
quite  alone  when  he  reached  the  second  inclosure  at  the 
foot  of  the  Acropolis.  The  materials  which  had  been  flung 
from  the  summit  cumbered  the  steps  and  were  heaped  up 
higher  than  the  wall.  Matho  turned  back  amid  the  ruins 
to  summon  his  companions. 

He  perceived  their  crests  scattered  over  the  multitude ; 
they  were  sinking  and  their  wearers  were  about  to  perish  ; 
he  dashed  toward  them ;  then  the  vast  wreath  of  red 
plumes  closed  in,  and  they  soon  rejoined  him  and  surrounded 
him.  But  an  enormous  crowd  was  discharging  from  the 
side  streets.  He  was  caught  by  the  hips,  lifted  up  and 
carried  away  outside  the  rampart  to  a  spot  where  the  ter- 
race was  high. 

Matho  shouted  a  command  and  all  the  shields  sank  upon 
the  helmets  ;  he  leaped  upon  them  in  order  to  catch  hold 
somewhere  so  as  to  re-enter  Carthage ;  and,  flourishing  his 
terrible  axe,  ran  over  the  shields,  which  resembled  waves 
of  bronze,  like  a  marine  god,  with  brandished  trident,  over 
his  billows. 

However,  a  man  in  a  white  robe  was  walking  along  the 
edge  of  the  rampart,  impassible,  and  indifferent  to  the  death 
which  surrounded  him.  Sometimes  he  would  spread  out 
his  right  hand  above  his  eyes  in  order  to  find  out  some  one. 
Matho  happened  to  pass  beneath  him.  Suddenly  his  eye- 
balls flamed,  his  livid  face  contracted  ;  and  raising  both  his 
lean  arms  he  shouted  out  abuse  at  him. 

Matho  did  not  hear  it  ;  but  he  felt  so  furious  and  cruel  a 
look  entering  his  heart  that  he  uttered  a  roar.  He  hurled  his 
long  axe  at  him  ;  some  people  threw  themselves  upon  Scha- 
habarim  ;  and  Matho  seeing  him  no  more  fell  back  exhausted. 


4oo  FLAUBERT 

A  terrible  creaking  drew  near,  mingled  with  the  rhythm 
of  hoarse  voices  singing  together. 

It  was  the  great  helepolis  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of 
soldiers.  They  were  dragging  it  with  both  hands,  hauling 
it  with  ropes,  and  pushing  it  with  their  shoulders  —  for  the 
slope  rising  from  the  plain  to  the  terrace,  though  extremely 
gentle,  was  found  impracticable  for  machines  of  such  pro- 
digious weight.  However,  it  had  eight  wheels  banded  with 
iron,  and  it  had  been  advancing  slowly  in  this  way  since 
the  morning,  like  a  mountain  raised  upon  another.  Then 
there  appeared  an  immense  ram  issuing  from  its  base.  The 
doors  along  the  three  fronts  which  faced  the  town  fell  down, 
and  cuirassed  soldiers  appeared  in  the  interior  like  pillars 
of  iron.  Some  might  be  seen  climbing  and  descending  the 
two  staircases  which  crossed  the  stories.  Some  were  wait- 
ing to  dart  out  as  soon  as  the  cramps  of  the  doors  touched 
the  walls ;  in  the  middle  of  the  upper  platform  the  skeins 
of  the  ballistas  were  turning,  and  the  great  beam  of  the 
catapult  was  being  lowered. 

Hamilcar  was  at  that  moment  standing  upright  on  the 
roof  of  Melkarth.  He  had  calculated  that  it  would  come 
directly  toward  him,  against  what  was  the  most  invulner- 
able place  in  the  wall,  and  was  for  that  very  reason  de- 
nuded of  sentries.  His  slaves  had  for  a  long  time  been 
bringing  leathern  bottles  along  the  roundway,  where  they 
had  raised  with  clay  two  transverse  partitions  forming  a 
sort  of  basin.  The  water  was  flowing  insensibly  along  the 
terrace,  and  strange  to  say,  it  seemed  to  cause  Hamilcar  no 
anxiety. 

But  when  the  helepolis  was  thirty  paces  off,  he  com- 
manded planks  to  be  placed  over  the  streets  between  the 
houses  from  the  cisterns  to  the  rampart  ;  and  a  file  of  peo- 
ple passed  from  hand  to  hand  helmets  and  amphoras,  which 
were  emptied  continually.  The  Carthaginians,  however, 
grew  indignant  at  this  waste  of  water.  The  ram  was  de- 
molishing the  wall,  when  suddenly  a  fountain  sprang  forth 
from  the  disjointed  stones.  Then  the  lofty  brazen  mass, 
nine  stories  high,  which  contained  and  engaged  more  than 
three  thousand  soldiers,  began  to  rock  gently  like  a  ship. 
In  fact,  the  water,  which    had    penetrated    the  terrace,  had 


SALAMMBO  401 

broken  up  the  path  before  it ;  its  wheels  stuck  in  the  mire  ; 
the  head  of  Spendius,  with  distended  cheeks  blowing  an 
ivory  cornet,  appeared  between  leathern  curtains  on  the 
first  story.  The  great  machine,  as  though  convulsively 
upheaved,  advanced  perhaps  ten  paces  ;  but  the  ground 
softened  more  and  more,  the  mire  reached  to  the  axles, 
and  the  helepolis  stopped,  leaning  over  frightfully  to  one 
side.  The  catapult  rolled  to  the  edge  of  the  platform,  and 
carried  away  by  the  weight  of  its  beam,  fell,  shattering  the 
lower  stories  beneath  it.  The  soldiers  who  were  standing 
on  the  doors  slipped  into  the  abyss,  or  else  held  on  to  the 
extremities  of  the  long  beams,  and  by  their  weight  in- 
creased the  inclination  of  the  helepolis,  which  was  going  to 
pieces  with  creakings  in  all  its  joints. 

The  other  Barbarians  rushed  up  to  help  them,  massing 
themselves  into  a  compact  crowd.  The  Carthaginians  de- 
scended from  the  rampart,  and,  assailing  them  in  the  rear, 
killed  them  at  leisure.  But  the  chariots  furnished  with  the 
sickles  hastened  up,  and  galloped  round  the  outskirts  of 
the  multitude.  The  latter  ascended  the  wall  again  ;  night 
came  on  ;  and  the  Barbarians  gradually  retired. 

Nothing  could  now  be  seen  on  the  plain  but  a  sort  of 
perfectly  black,  swarming  mass,  which  extended  from  the 
bluish  gulf  to  the  purely  white  lagoon ;  and  the  lake, 
which  had  received  streams  of  blood,  stretched  further 
away  like  a  great  purple  pool. 

The  terrace  was  now  so  laden  with  corpses  that  it  looked 
as  though  it  had  been  constructed  of  human  bodies.  In 
the  centre  stood  the  helepolis  covered  with  armor ;  and 
from  time  to  time  huge  fragments  broke  off  from  it,  like 
stones  from  a  crumbling  pyramid.  Broad  tracks  made 
by  the  streams  of  lead  might  be  distinguished  on  the 
walls.  A  broken-down  wooden  tower  burned  here  and 
there,  and  the  houses  showed  dimly  like  the  stages  of  a 
ruined  amphitheatre.  Heavy  fumes  of  smoke  were  ris- 
ing, and  rolling  with  them  sparks  which  were  lost  in  the 
dark  sky. 

The    Carthaginians     however,    who     were     consumed    by 
thirst,  had    rushed    to    the    cisterns.     They  broke    open  the 
doors.     A  miry  swamp  stretched  at  the  bottom. 
26 


402  FLAUBERT 

What  was  to  be  done  now  ?  Moreover,  the  Barbarians 
were  countless,  and  when  their  fatigue  was  over  they  would 
begin  again. 

The  people  deliberated  all  night  in  groups  at  the  corners 
of  the  streets.  Some  said  that  they  ought  to  send  away 
the  women,  the  sick  and  the  old  men  ;  others  proposed  to 
abandon  the  town,  and  found  a  colony  far  away.  But 
vessels  were  lacking,  and  when  the  sun  appeared  no  decision 
had  been  made. 

There  was  no  fighting  that  day,  all  being  too  much  ex- 
hausted.    The  sleepers  looked  like  corpses. 

Then  the  Carthaginians,  reflecting  upon  the  cause  of 
their  disasters,  remembered  that  they  had  not  dispatched  to 
Phoenicia  the  annual  offering  due  to  Tyrian  Melkarth,  and 
a  great  terror  came  upon  them.  The  gods  were  indignant 
with  the  Republic,  and  were,  no  doubt,  going  to  prosecute 
their  vengeance. 

They  were  considered  as  cruel  masters,  who  were  ap- 
peased with  supplications  and  allowed  themselves  to  be 
bribed  with  presents.  All  were  feeble  in  comparison  with 
Moloch  the  Devourer.  The  existence,  the  very  flesh  of 
men,  belonged  to  him  ;  and  hence,  in  order  to  preserve  it, 
the  Carthaginians  used  to  offer  up  a  portion  of  it  to  him, 
which  calmed  his  fury.  Children  were  burned  on  the  fore- 
head, or  on  the  nape  of  the  neck,  with  woolen  wicks ; 
and  as  this  mode  of  satisfying  Baal  brought  in  much  money 
to  the  priests,  they  failed  not  to  recommend  it  as  being 
easier  and  more  pleasant. 

This  time,  however,  the  Republic  itself  was  at  stake. 
But  as  every  profit  must  be  purchased  by  some  loss,  and 
as  every  transaction  was  regulated  according  to  the  needs 
of  the  weaker  and  the  demands  of  the  stronger,  there  was 
no  pain  great  enough  for  the  god,  since  he  delighted  in 
such  as  was  of  the  most  horrible  description,  and  all  were 
now  at  his  mercy.  He  must  accordingly  be  fully  gratified. 
Precedents  showed  that  in  this  way  the  scourge  would  be 
made  to  disappear.  Moreover,  it  was  believed  that  an  im- 
molation by  fire  would  purify  Carthage.  The  ferocity  of 
the  people  was  predisposed  toward  it.  The  choice,  too,  must 
fall  exclusively  upon  the  families  of  the  great. 


SALAMMBO  403 

The  Ancients  assembled.  The  sitting  was  a  long  one. 
Hanno  had  come  to  it.  As  he  was  now  unable  to  sit  he 
remained  lying  down  near  the  door,  half  hidden  among  the 
fringes  of  the  lofty  tapestry ;  and  when  the  pontiff  of 
Moloch  asked  them  whether  they  would  consent  to  surren- 
der their  children,  his  voice  suddenly  broke  forth  from  the 
shadow  like  the  roaring  of  a  Genius  in  the  depths  of  a  cavern. 
He  regretted,  he  said,  that  he  had  none  of  his  own  blood 
to  give ;  and  he  gazed  at  Hamilcar,  who  faced  him  at  the 
other  end  of  the  hall.  The  Suffet  was  so  much  discon- 
certed by  this  look  that  it  made  him  lower  his  eyes.  All  suc- 
cessively bent  their  heads  in  approval ;  and  in  accordance 
with  the  rites  he  had  to  reply  to  the  high  priest :  (<  Yes ; 
be  it  so."  Then  the  Ancients  decreed  the  sacrifice  in  tra- 
ditional circumlocution  —  because  there  are  things  more 
troublesome  to  say  than  to  perform. 

The  decision  was  almost  immediately  known  in  Carthage, 
and  lamentations  resounded.  The  cries  of  women  might 
everywhere  be  heard ;  their  husbands  consoled  them,  or 
railed  at  them  with  remonstrances. 

But  three  hours  afterward  extraordinary  tidings  were 
spread  abroad  :  the  Suffet  had  discovered  springs  at  the  foot 
of  the  cliff.  There  was  a  rush  to  the  place.  Water  might 
be  seen  in  holes  dug  in  the  sand,  and  some  were  already 
lying  flat  on  the  ground  and  drinking. 

Hamilcar  did  not  himself  know  whether  it  was  by  the 
determination  of  the  gods  or  through  the  vague  recollec- 
tion of  a  revelation  which  his  father  had  once  made  to 
him  ;  but  on  leaving  the  Ancients  he  had  gone  down  to 
the  shore  and  had  begun  to  dig  the  gravel  with  his 
slaves. 

He  gave  clothing,  boots,  and  wine.  He  gave  all  the 
rest  of  the  corn  that  he  was  keeping  by  him.  He  even 
let  the  crowd  enter  his  palace,  and  he  opened  kitchens, 
stores  and  all  the  rooms  —  Salammbo's  alone  excepted.  He 
announced  that  six  thousand  Gaulish  Mercenaries  were 
coming,  and  that  the  king  of  Macedonia  was  sending 
soldiers. 

But  on  the  second  day  the  springs  diminished,  and  on 
the    evening    of    the  third   they   were   completely  dried  up. 


404  FLAUBERT 

Then  the  decree  of  the  Ancients  passed  everywhere  from 
lip  to  lip,  and  the  priests  of  Moloch  commenced  their 
task. 

Men  in  black  robes  presented  themselves  in  the  houses. 
In  many  instances  the  owners  had  deserted  them  under 
pretense  of  some  business,  or  of  some  dainty  that  they  were 
going  to  buy ;  and  the  servants  of  Moloch  came  and  took 
the  children  away.  Others  themselves  surrendered  them 
stupidly.  Then  they  were  brought  to  the  temple  of  Tanith, 
where  the  priestesses  were  charged  with  their  amusement 
and  support  until  the  solemn  day. 

They  visited  Hamilcar  suddenly  and  found  him  in  his 
gardens. 

c<  Barca !  we  come  for  that  that  you  know  of  —  your 
son !  *  They  added  that  some  people  had  met  him  one 
evening  during  the  previous  moon  in  the  centre  of  the 
Mappalian  district  being  led  by  an  old  man. 

He  was  as  though  suffocated  at  first.  But  speedily 
understanding  that  any  denial  would  be  vain,  Hamilcar 
bowed  ;  and  he  brought  them  into  the  commercial  house. 
Some  slaves  who  had  run  up  at  a  sign  kept  watch  round 
about  it. 

He  entered  Salammbo's  room  in  a  state  of  distraction. 
He  seized  Hannibal  with  one  hand,  snatched  up  the  cord 
of  a  trailing  garment  with  the  other,  tied  his  feet  and 
hands  with  it,  thrust  the  end  into  his  mouth  to  form  a 
gag,  and  hid  him  under  the  bed  of  ox-hides  by  letting  an 
ample  drapery  fall  to  the  ground. 

Afterward  he  walked  about  from  right  to  left,  raised  his 
arms,  wheeled  round,  bit  his  lips.  Then  he  stood  still 
with  staring  eyeballs,  and  panted  as  though  he  were  about 
to  die. 

But  he  clapped  his  hands  three  times.  Giddenem  ap- 
peared. 

<(  Listen  I  w  he  said,  <(  go  and  take  from  among  the  slaves 
a  male  child  from  eight  to  nine  years  of  age,  with  black 
hair  and  swelling  forehead !  Bring  him  here  !  make 
haste  ! }) 

Giddenem  soon  entered  again,  bringing  forward  a  young 
boy. 


SALAMMBO  405 

He  was  a  miserable  child,  at  once  lean  and  bloated  ;  his 
skin  looked  grayish,  like  the  infected  rag  hanging  to  his 
sides ;  his  head  was  sunk  between  his  shoulders,  and  with 
the  back  of  his  hand  he  was  rubbing  his  eyes,  which  were 
filled  with  flies. 

How  could  he  ever  be  confounded  with  Hannibal  !  and 
there  was  no  time  to  choose  another.  Hamilcar  looked  at 
Giddenem  ;  he  felt  inclined  to  strangle  him. 

<(  Begone  !  *  he  cried  ;  and  the  master    of    the  slaves  fled. 

The  misfortune  which  he  had  so  long  dreaded  was  there- 
fore come,  and  with  extravagant  efforts  he  strove  to 
discover  whether  there  was  not  some  mode,  some  means  to 
escape  it. 

Abdalonim  suddenly  spoke  from  behind  the  door.  The 
Suffet  was  being  asked  for.  The  servants  of  Moloch  were 
growing  impatient. 

Hamilcar  repressed  a  cry  as  though  a  red  hot  iron  had 
burned  him  ;  and  he  began  anew  to  pace  the  room  like  one 
distraught.  Then  he  sank  down  beside  the  balustrade  and, 
with  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  pressed  his  forehead  into  his 
shut   fists. 

The  porphyry  basin  still  contained  a  little  clear  water  for 
Salammbo's  ablutions.  In  spite  of  his  repugnance  and  all 
his  pride,  the  Suffet  dipped  the  child  into  it,  and,  like  a 
slave  merchant,  began  to  wash  him  and  rub  him  with 
strigils  and  red  earth.  Then  he  took  two  purple  squares 
from  the  receptacles  round  the  wall,  placed  one  on  his 
breast  and  the  other  on  his  back,  and  joined  them  together 
on  the  collar  bones  with  two  diamond  clasps.  He  poured 
perfume  upon  his  head,  passed  an  electrum  necklace  around 
his  neck,  and  put  on  him  sandals  with  heels  of  pearls  — 
sandals  belonging  to  his  own  daughter  !  But  he  stamped 
with  shame  and  vexation  ;  Salammbo,  who  busied  herself 
in  helping  him,  was  as  pale  as  he.  The  child,  dazzled  by 
such  splendor,  smiled,  and,  growing  bold  even,  was  begin- 
ning to  clap  his  hands  and  jump,  when  Hamilcar  took  him 
away. 

He  held  him  firmly  by  the  arm  as  though  he  were  afraid 
of  losing  him,  and  the  child,  who  was  hurt,  wept  a  little 
as  he  ran  beside  him. 


406  FLAUBERT 

When  on  a  level  with  the  ergastulum,  under  a  palm 
tree,  a  voice  was  raised,  a  mournful  and  supplicant  voice. 
It  murmured  :  *  Master  !  oh  !  master  !  * 

Hamilcar  turned  and  beside  him  perceived  a  man  of 
abject  appearance,  one  of  the  wretches  who  led  a  haphazard 
existence  in  the  household. 

■  What  do  you  want  ?  *  said  the   Suffet. 

The  slave,  who  trembled  horribly,  stammered  :  — 

(<  I  am  his  father  !  » 

Hamilcar  walked  on  ;  the  other  followed  him  with  stoop- 
ing loins,  bent  hams,  and  head  thrust  forward.  His  face 
was  convulsed  with  unspeakable  anguish,  and  he  was  chok- 
ing with  suppressed  sobs,  so  eager  was  he  at  once  to  ques- 
tion him,  and  to  cry  <(  Mercy  !  * 

At  last  he  ventured  to  touch  him  lightly  with  one  finger 
on  the  elbow. 

(<  Are  you  going  to ?  *     He  had  not  strength  to  finish, 

and  Hamilcar  stopped  quite  amazed  at  such  grief. 

He  had  never  thought  —  so  immense  was  the  abyss  sep- 
arating them  from  each  other  —  that  there  could  be  anything 
in  common  between  them.  It  even  appeared  to  him  a  sort 
of  outrage,  an  encroachment  upon  his  own  privileges.  He 
replied  with  a  look  colder  and  heavier  than  an  executioner's 
axe ;  the  slave  swooned  and  fell  in  the  dust  at  his  feet. 
Hamilcar  strode  across  him. 

The  three  black -robed  men  were  waiting  in  the  great 
hall,  and  standing  against  the  stone  disc.  Immediately  he 
tore  his  garments,  and  rolled  upon  the  pavement  uttering 
piercing  cries. 

<(  Ah  !  poor  little  Hannibal  !  Oh  !  my  son  !  my  consola- 
tion !  my  hope !  my  life !  Kill  me  also  !  take  me  away  ! 
Woe  !  Woe !  *  He  plowed  his  face  with  his  nails,  tore 
out  his  hair,  and  shrieked  like  the  women  who  lament  at 
funerals.  (( Take  him  away  then  !  my  suffering  is  too 
great  !  begone  !  kill  me  like  him  !  w  The  servants  of  Moloch 
were  astonished  that  the  great  Hamilcar  was  so  weak- 
spirited.     They  were  almost  moved  by  it. 

A  noise  of  naked  feet  became  audible,  with  a  broken 
throat-rattling  like  the  breathing  of  a  wild  beast  speeding 
along,  and  a   man,  pale,  terrible,  and    with   outspread   arms 


SALAMMBO  407 

appeared  on  the  threshold  of  the  third  gallery,  between  the 
ivory  posts  ;  he  exclaimed  :  — 

■  My  child  !  » 

Hamilcar  threw  himself  with  a  bound  upon  the  slave, 
and  covering  the  man's  mouth  with  his  hand  exclaimed 
still  more  loudly  :  — 

<(  It  is  the  old  man  who  reared  him  !  he  calls  him  ( my 
child  ! )  it  will  make  him  mad  !  enough  !  enough  ! w  And 
hustling  away  the  three  priests  and  their  victim  he  went 
out  with  them  and  with  a  great  kick  shut  the  door  behind  him. 

Hamilcar  strained  his  ears  for  some  minutes  in  constant 
fear  of  seeing  them  return.  He  then  thought  of  getting 
rid  of  the  slave  in  order  to  be  quite  sure  that  he  would  see 
nothing  ;  but  the  peril  had  not  wholly  disappeared,  and,  if 
the  gods  were  provoked  at  the  man's  death,  it  might  be 
turned  against  his  son.  Then,  changing  his  intention,  he 
sent  him  by  Taanach  the  best  from  his  kitchens  —  a  quar- 
ter of  a  goat,  beans,  and  preserved  pomegranates.  The 
slave,  who  had  eaten  nothing  for  a  long  time,  rushed  upon 
them  ;  his  tears  fell  into  the  dishes. 

Hamilcar  at  last  returned  to  Salammbo,  and  unfastened 
Hannibal's  cords.  The  child  in  exasperation  bit  his  hand 
until  the  blood  came.     He  repelled  him  with  a  caress. 

To  make  him  remain  quiet,  Salammbo  tried  to  frighten 
him  with  L,amia,  a  Cyrenian  ogress. 

"But  where  is  she?"  he  asked. 

He  was  told  that  brigands  were  coming  to  put  him  into 
prison.  "  l>t  them  come,"  he  rejoined,  "and  I  will  kill 
them!  » 

Then  Hamilcar  told  him  the  frightful  truth.  But  he  fell 
into  a  passion  with  his  father,  contending  that  he  was  quite 
able  to  annihilate  the  whole  people  since  he  was  the  master 
of  Carthage. 

At  last,  exhausted  by  his  exertions  and  anger,  he  fell 
into  a  wild  sleep.  He  spoke  in  his  dreams,  his  back  lean- 
ing against  a  scarlet  cushion  ;  his  head  was  thrown  back 
somewhat,  and  his  little  arm,  outstretched  from  his  body, 
lay  quite  straight  in  an  attitude  of  command. 

When  the  night  had  grown  dark  Hamilcar  lifted  him  up 
gently,  and,  without    a    torch,  went  down  the  galley  stair- 


4o8  FLAUBERT 

case.  As  he  passed  through  the  mercantile  house  he  took 
up  a  basket  of  grapes  and  a  flagon  of  pure  water ;  the 
child  awoke  before  the  statue  of  Aletes  in  the  vault  of 
gems,  and  he  smiled  —  like  the  other  —  on  his  father's  arm 
at  the  brilliant  lights  which  surrounded  him. 

Hamilcar  felt  quite  sure  that  his  son  could  not  be  taken 
from  him.  It  was  an  impenetrable  spot  communicating 
with  the  beach  by  a  subterranean  passage  which  he  alone 
knew,  and  casting  his  eyes  around  he  inhaled  a  great 
draught  of  air.  Then  he  set  him  down  upon  a  stool  beside 
some  golden  shields. 

No  one  at  present  could  see  him ;  he  had  no  further  need 
for  watching ;  and  he  relieved  his  feelings.  Like  a  mother 
finding  again  her  first-born  that  was  lost,  he  threw  himself 
upon  his  son  ;  he  clasped  him  to  his  breast,  he  laughed  and 
wept  at  the  same  time,  he  called  him  by  the  fondest  names 
and  covered  him  with  kisses  ;  little  Hannibal  was  frightened 
by  this  terrible  tenderness  and  was  silent  now. 

Hamilcar  returned  with  silent  steps,  feeling  the  walls 
around  him,  and  came  into  the  great  hall  where  the  moon- 
light entered  through  one  of  the  apertures  in  the  dome  ;  in 
the  centre  the  slave  lay  sleeping  after  his  repast,  stretched 
at  full  length  upon  the  marble  pavement.  He  looked  at 
him  and  was  moved  with  a  sort  of  pity.  With  the  tip  of 
his  cothurn  he  pushed  forward  a  carpet  beneath  his  head. 
Then  he  raised  his  eyes  and  gazed  at  Tanith,  whose  slen- 
der crescent  was  shining  in  the  sky,  and  felt  himself 
stronger  than  the  Baals  and  full  of  contempt  for  them. 

The  arrangements  for  the  sacrifice  were  already  begun. 

Part  of  a  wall  in  the  temple  of  Moloch  was  thrown  down 
in  order  to  draw  out  the  brazen  god  without  touching  the 
ashes  of  the  altar.  Then  as  soon  as  the  sun  appeared  the 
hierodules  pushed  it  toward  the  square  of  Khamon. 

It  moved  backward  sliding  upon  cylinders ;  its  shoulders 
overlapped  the  walls.  No  sooner  did  the  Carthaginians 
perceive  it  in  the  distance  than  they  speedily  took  to  flight, 
for  the  Baal  could  be  looked  upon  with  impunity  only  when 
exercising  his  wrath. 

A  smell  of  aromatics  spread  through  the  streets.  All 
the    temples  had  just  been  opened  simultaneously  and  from 


SALAMMBO  409 

them  there  came  forth  tabernacles  borne  upon  chariots,  or 
upon  litters  carried  by  the  pontiffs.  Great  plumes  swayed 
at  the  corners  of  them,  and  rays  were  emitted  from  their 
slender  pinnacles  which  terminated  in  balls  of  crystal,  gold, 
silver,  or  copper. 

These  were  the  Chanaanitish  Baalim,  offshoots  of  the 
supreme  Baal,  who  were  returning  to  their  first  cause  to 
humble  themselves  before  his  might  and  annihilate  them- 
selves in  his  splendor. 

Melkarth's  pavilion,  which  was  of  fine  purple,  sheltered 
a  petroleum  flame ;  on  Khamon's,  which  was  of  hyacinth 
color,  there  rose  an  ivory  phallus  bordered  with  a  circle  of 
gems  ;  between  Eschmoun's  curtains,  which  were  blue  as 
the  ether,  a  sleeping  python  formed  a  circle  with  his  tail, 
and  the  Pataec  gods,  held  in  the  arms  of  their  priests, 
looked  like  great  infants  in  swaddling  clothes  with  their 
heels  touching  the  ground. 

Then  came  all  the  inferior  forms  of  the  Divinity  :  Baal- 
Samin,  god  of  celestial  space  ;  Baal-Peor,  god  of  the  sacred 
mountains  ;  Baal-Zeboub,  god  of  corruption,  with  those  of 
the  neighboring  countries  and  congenerous  races  :  the  Irabal 
of  Libya,  the  Adrammelech  of  Chaldaea,  the  Kijun  of  the 
Syrians ;  Derceto,  with  her  virgin's  face,  crept  on  her  fins 
and  the  corpse  of  Tammouz  was  drawn  along  in  the  midst 
of  a  catafalque  among  torches  and  heads  of  hair.  In  order 
to  subdue  the  kings  of  the  firmament  to  the  Sun,  and  pre- 
vent their  particular  influences  from  disturbing  his,  diversely 
colored  metal  stars  were  brandished  at  the  end  of  long  poles  ; 
and  all  were  there,  from  the  dark  Nebo,  the  Genius  of 
Mercury,  to  the  hideous  Rahab,  which  is  the  constellation 
of  the  Crocodile.  The  Abaddirs,  stones  which  had  fallen 
from  the  moon,  were  whirling  in  slings  of  silver  thread ; 
little  loaves,  representing  a  woman's  sex,  were  borne  on 
baskets  by  the  priests  of  Ceres  ;  others  brought  their  fetishes 
and  amulets  ;  forgotten  idols  reappeared,  while  the  mystic 
symbols  had  been  taken  from  the  very  ships  as  though 
Carthage  wished  to  concentrate  herself  wholly  upon  a  single 
thought  of  death  and  desolation. 

Before  each  tabernacle  a  man  balanced  a  large  vase  of 
smoking   incense   on    his    head.     Clouds   hovered    here    and 


4io  FLAUBERT 

there,  and  the  hangings,  pendants,  and  embroideries  of  the 
sacred  pavilions  might  be  distinguished  amid  the  thick  va- 
pors. These  advanced  slowly  owing  to  their  enormous 
weight.  Sometimes  the  axles  became  fast  in  the  streets ; 
then  the  pious  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  touch 
the  Baalim  with  their  garments  which  they  preserved  after- 
ward as  holy  things. 

The  brazen  statue  continued  to  advance  toward  the  square  of 
Khamon.  The  Rich,  carrying  sceptres  with  emerald  balls, 
set  out  from  the  bottom  of  Megara ;  the  Ancients,  with  dia- 
dems on  their  heads,  had  assembled  in  Kinisdo,  and  mas- 
ters of  the  finances,  governors  of  provinces,  sailors,  and  the 
numerous  horde  employed  at  funerals,  all  with  the  insignia 
of  their  magistracies  or  the  instruments  of  their  calling, 
were  making  their  way  toward  the  tabernacles  which  were  de- 
scending from  the  Acropolis  between  the  colleges  of  the  pontiffs. 

Out  of  deference  to  Moloch  they  had  adorned  themselves 
with  the  most  splendid  jewels.  Diamonds  sparkled  on  their 
black  garments ;  but  their  rings  were  too  large  and  fell  from 
their  wasted  hands  —  nor  could  there  have  been  anything  so 
mournful  as  this  silent  crowd  where  earrings  tapped  against 
pale  faces,  and  gold  tiaras  clasped  brows  contracted  with 
stern  despair. 

At  last  the  Baal  arrived  exactly  in  the  centre  of  the 
square.  His  pontiffs  arranged  an  enclosure  with  trellis- 
work  to  keep  off  the  multitude,  and  remained  around  him 
at  his  feet. 

The  priests  of  Khamon,  in  tawny  woolen  robes,  formed 
a  line  before  their  temple  beneath  the  columns  of  the  por- 
tico ;  those  of  Eschmoun,  in  linen  mantles  with  necklaces  of 
koukouphas'  heads  and  pointed  tiaras,  posted  themselves 
on  the  steps  of  the  Acropolis ;  the  priests  of  Melkarth,  in 
violet  tunics,  took  the  western  side  ;  the  priests  of  the  Abad- 
dirs,  clasped  with  bands  of  Phrygian  stuffs,  placed  them- 
selves on  the  east,  while  toward  the  south,  with  the  necro- 
mancers all  covered  with  tatooings  and  the  shriekers  in 
patched  cloaks,  were  ranged  the  curates  of  the  Pataec  gods, 
and  the  Yidonim,  who  put  the  bone  of  a  dead  man  into 
their  mouths  to  learn  the  future.  The  priests  Ceres,  who 
were  dressed  in    blue   robes,  had    prudently    stopped   in  the 


SALAMMBO  411 

street  of  Satheb,  and  in  low  tones  were  chanting  a  thesino- 
phorion  in  the  Megarian  dialect. 

From  time  to  time  files  of  men  arrived,  completely  naked, 
their  arms  outstretched,  and  all  holding  one  another  by  the 
shoulders.  From  the  depths  of  their  breasts  they  drew 
forth  a  hoarse  and  cavernous  intonation  ;  their  eyes,  which 
were  fastened  upon  the  colossus,  shone  through  the 
dust,  and  they  swayed  their  bodies  simultaneously,  and 
at  equal  distances,  as  though  they  were  all  affected  by  a 
single  movement.  They  were  so  frenzied  that  to  restore 
order  the  hierodules  compelled  them,  with  blows  of  the 
stick,  to  lie  flat  upon  the  ground,  with  their  faces  resting 
against  the  brass  trellis-work. 

Then  it  was  that  a  man  in  a  white  robe  advanced  from 
the  back  of  the  square.  He  penetrated  the  crowd  slowly, 
and  people  recognized  a  priest  of  Tanith  —  the  high-priest 
Schahabarim.  Hootings  were  raised,  for  the  tyranny  of 
the  male  principle  prevailed  that  day  in  all  consciences, 
and  the  goddess  was  actually  so  completely  forgotten  that 
the  absence  of  her  pontiffs  had  not  been  noticed.  But  the 
amazement  increased  when  he  was  seen  to  open  one  of  the 
doors  in  the  trellis-work  intended  for  those  who  entered  to 
offer  up  victims.  It  was  an  outrage  to  their  god,  thought 
the  priests  of  Moloch,  that  he  had  just  committed,  and 
they  sought  with  eager  gestures  to  repel  him.  Fed  on  the 
meat  of  the  holocausts,  clad  in  purple  like  kings,  and 
wearing  triple-storied  crowns,  they  despised  the  pale  eunuch, 
weakened  with  his  macerations,  and  angry  laughter  shook 
their  black  beards,  which  were  displayed  on  their  breasts  in 
the  sun. 

Schahabarim  walked  on,  giving  no  reply,  and,  traversing 
the  whole  enclosure  with  deliberation,  reached  the  legs  of 
the  colossus  ;  then,  spreading  out  both  arms,  he  touched  it 
on  both  sides,  which  was  a  solemn  form  of  adoration.  For 
a  long  time  Rabbet  had  been  torturing  him,  and  in  despair, 
or  perhaps  for  lack  of  a  god  that  completely  satisfied  his 
ideas,  he  had  at  last  decided  for  this  one. 

The  crowd,  terrified  by  this  act  of  apostasy,  uttered  a 
lengthened  murmur.  It  was  felt  that  the  last  tie  which 
bound  their  souls  to  a  merciful  divinity  was  breaking. 


412  FLAUBERT 

But  owing  to  his  mutilation  Schahabariin  could  take  no 
part  in  the  cult  of  the  Baal.  The  men  in  the  red  cloaks 
shut  him  out  from  the  enclosure  ;  then,  when  he  was  out- 
side, he  went  round  all  the  colleges  in  succession,  and  the 
priest,  henceforth  without  a  god,  disappeared  in  the  crowd. 
It  scattered  at  his  approach. 

Meanwhile  a  fire  of  aloes,  cedar,  and  laurel  was  burning 
between  the  legs  of  the  colossus.  The  tips  of  its  long 
wings  dipped  into  the  flame  ;  the  unguents  with  which  it 
had  been  rubbed  flowed  like  sweat  over  its  brazen  limbs. 
Around  the  circular  flagstone  on  which  its  feet  rested,  the 
children,  wrapped  in  black  veils,  formed  a  motionless 
circle ;  and  its  extravagantly  long  arms  reached  down  their 
palms  to  them  as  though  to  seize  the  crown  that  they 
formed  and  carry  it  to  the  sky. 

The  Rich,  the  Ancients,  the  women,  the  whole  multitude 
thronged  behind  the  priests  and  on  the  terraces  of  the 
houses.  The  large  painted  stars  revolved  no  longer ;  the 
tabernacles  were  set  upon  the  ground  ;  and  the  fumes  from 
the  censers  ascended  perpendicularly,  spreading  their  bluish 
branches  through  the  azure  like  gigantic  trees. 

Many  fainted  ;  others  became  inert  and  petrified  in  their 
ecstasy.  Infinite  anguish  weighed  upon  the  breasts  of  the 
beholders.  The  last  shouts  died  out  one  by  one  —  and 
the  people  of  Carthage  stood  breathless,  and  absorbed  in  the 
longing  of  their  terror. 

At  last  the  high  priest  of  Moloch  passed  his  left  hand 
beneath  the  children's  veils,  plucked  a  lock  of  hair  from 
their  foreheads,  and  threw  it  upon  the  flames.  Then  the 
men  in  the  red  cloaks  chanted  the  sacred  hymn  :  — 

"  Homage  to  thee,  Sun !  king  of  the  two  zones,  self- 
generating  Creator,  Father  and  Mother,  Father  and  Son, 
God  and  Goddess,  Goddess  and  God  !  *  And  their  voices 
were  lost  in  the  outburst  of  instruments  sounding  simul- 
taneously to  drown  the  cries  of  the  victims.  The  eight- 
stringed  scheminiths,  the  kinnors  which  had  ten  strings, 
and  the  nebals  which  had  twelve,  grated,  whistled,  and 
thundered.  Enormous  leathern  bags,  bristling  with  pipes, 
made  a  shrill  clashing  noise ;  the  tabourines,  beaten  with 
all  the  players'  might,  resounded  with  heavy,  rapid  blows ; 


SALAMMBO  413 

and,  in  spite  of  the  fury  of  the  clarions,  the  salsalim 
snapped  like  grasshoppers'   wings. 

The  hierodules,  with  a  long  hook,  opened  the  seven- 
storied  compartments  on  the  body  of  the  Baal.  They  put 
meal  into  the  highest,  two  turtle-doves  into  the  second,  an 
ape  into  the  third,  a  ram  into  the  fourth,  a  sheep  into  the 
fifth,  and  as  no  ox  was  to  be  had  for  the  sixth,  a  tawny 
hide  taken  from  the  sanctuary  was  thrown  into  it.  The 
seventh  compartment  yawned  empty  still. 

Before  undertaking  anything  it  was  well  to  make  trial  of 
the  arms  of  the  god.  Slender  chainlets  stretched  from  his 
fingers  up  to  his  shoulders  and  fell  behind,  where  men  by 
pulling  them  made  the  two  hands  rise  to  a  level  with  the 
elbows,  and  come  close  together  against  the  belly;  they 
were  moved  several  times  in  succession  with  little  abrupt 
jerks.     Then  the  instruments  were  still.     The  fire  roared. 

The  pontiffs  of  Moloch  walked  about  on  the  great  flag- 
stones scanning  the  multitude. 

An  individual  sacrifice  was  necessary,  a  perfectly  volun- 
tary oblation  ;  which  was  considered  as  carrying  the  others 
along  with  it.  But  no  one  had  appeared  up  to  the  pres- 
ent, and  the  seven  passages  leading  from  the  barriers  to 
the  colossus  were  completely  empty.  Then  the  priests,  to 
encourage  the  people,  drew  bodkins  from  their  girdles  and 
gashed  their  faces.  The  Devotees,  who  were  stretched  on 
the  ground  outside,  were  brought  within  the  enclosure. 
They  were  thrown  a  bundle  of  horrible  irons,  and  each 
chose  his  own  torture.  They  drove  in  spits  between  their 
breasts ;  they  split  their  cheeks  ;  they  put  crowns  of  thorns 
upon  their  heads  ;  then  they  twined  their  arms  together, 
and  surrounded  the  children  in  another  large  circle  which 
widened  and  contracted  in  turns.  They  reached  to  the 
balustrade.  They  threw  themselves  back  again,  and  then 
began  once  more,  attracting  the  crowd  to  them  by  the  dizzi- 
ness of  their  motion  with  its  accompanying  blood  and  shrieks. 

By  degrees  people  came  into  the  end  of  the  passages ; 
they  flung  into  the  flames  pearls,  gold  vases,  cups,  torches, 
all  their  wealth  ;  the  offerings  became  constantly  more 
numerous  and  more  splendid.  At  last  a  man  who  tottered, 
a  man  pale  and  hideous  with  terror,  thrust  forward  a  child  ; 


414  FLAUBERT 

then  a  little  black  mass  was  seen  between  the  hands  of  the 
colossus,  and  sank  into  the  dark  opening.  The  priests 
bent  over  the  edge  of  the  great  flagstone  —  and  a  new 
song  burst  forth  celebrating  the  joys  of  death  and  of  new 
birth  into  eternity. 

The  children  ascended  slowly,  and  as  the  smoke  formed 
lofty  eddies  as  it  escaped,  they  seemed  at  a  distance  to 
disappear  in  a  cloud.  Not  one  stirred.  Their  wrists  and 
ankles  were  tied,  and  the  dark  drapery  prevented  them 
from  seeing  anything  and  from  being  recognized 

Hamilcar,  in  a  red  cloak,  like  the  priests  of  Moloch,  was 
beside  the  Baal,  standing  upright  in  front  of  the  great  toe 
of  its  right  foot.  When  the  fourteenth  child  was  brought 
every  one  could  see  him  make  a  great  gesture  of  horror. 
But  he  soon  resumed  his  former  attitude,  folded  his  arms, 
and  looked  upon  the  ground.  The  high  pontiff  stood  on 
the  other  side  of  the  statue  as  motionless  as  he.  His  head, 
laden  with  an  Assyrian  mitre,  was  bent,  and  he  was  watch- 
ing the  gold  plate  on  his  breast  ;  it  was  covered  with 
fatidical  stones,  and  the  flames  mirrored  in  it  formed 
irisated  lights.  He  grew  pale  and  dismayed.  Hamilcar 
bent  his  brow ;  and  they  were  both  so  near  the  funeral- 
pile  that  the  hems  of  their  cloaks  brushed  it  as  they  rose 
from  time  to  time. 

The  brazen  arms  were  working  more  quickly.  They 
paused  no  longer.  Every  time  that  a  child  was  placed  in 
them  the  priests  of  Moloch  spread  out  their  hands  upon 
him  to  burden  him  with  the  crimes  of  the  people,  vociferating  : 
<c  They  are  not  men,  but  oxen  !  *  and  the  multitude  round 
about  repeated  :  *  Oxen  !  oxen  !  *  The  devout  exclaimed  : 
<(  Lord  !  eat  !  *  and  the  priests  of  Proserpine,  complying 
through  terror  with  the  needs  of  Carthage,  muttered  the 
Eleusinian  formula  :     (<  Pour  out  rain  !  bring  forth  !  * 

The  victims,  when  scarcely  at  the  edge  of  the  opening, 
disappeared  like  a  drop  of  water  on  a  red-hot  plate,  and 
white  smoke  rose  amid  the  great  scarlet  color. 

Nevertheless  the  appetite  of  the  god  was  not  appeased. 
He  ever  wished  for  more.  In  order  to  furnish  him  with  a 
larger  supply,  the  victims  were  piled  up  on  his  hands  with 
a  big  chain  above   them   which    kept    them    in    their  place. 


SALAMMBO  415 

Some  devout  persons  had  at  the  beginning  wished  to  count 
them,  to  see  whether  their  number  corresponded  with  the 
days  of  the  solar  year ;  but  others  were  brought,  and  it 
was  impossible  to  distinguish  them  in  the  giddy  motion  of 
the  horrible  arms.  This  lasted  for  a  long,  indefinite  time 
until  the  evening.  Then  the  partitions  inside  assumed  a 
darker  glow,  and  burning  flesh  might  be  seen.  Some  even  be- 
lieved that  they  could  descry  hair,  limbs,  and  whole  bodies. 

Night  fell  ;  clouds  accumulated  above  the  Baal.  The 
funeral-pile,  which  was  flameless  now,  formed  a  pyramid  of 
coals  up  to  his  knees  ;  completely  red  like  a  giant  covered 
with  blood,  he  looked,  with  his  head  thrown  back,  as  though 
he  were  staggering  beneath  the  weight  of  his  intoxication. 

In  proportion  as  the  priests  made  haste,  the  frenzy  of  the 
people  increased  ;  as  the  number  of  the  victims  was  dimin- 
ishing, some  cried  out  to  spare  them,  others  that  still  more 
were  needful.  The  walls,  with  their  burden  of  people, 
seemed  to  be  giving  way  beneath  the  howlings  of  terror 
and  mystic  voluptuousness.  Then  the  faithful  came  into 
the  passages,  dragging  their  children,  who  clung  to  them ; 
and  they  beat  them  in  order  to  make  them  let  go,  and 
handed  them  over  to  the  men  in  red.  The  instrument-players 
sometimes  stopped  through  exhaustion  ;  then  the  cries  of 
the  mothers  might  be  heard,  and  the  frizzling  of  the  fat  as 
it  fell  upon  the  coals.  The  henbane-drinkers  crawled  on  all 
fours  around  the  colossus,  roaring  like  tigers ;  the  Yidonim 
vaticinated,  the  Devotees  sang  with  their  cloven  lips  ;  the 
trellis-work  had  been  broken  through,  all  wished  for  a 
share  in  the  sacrifice  —  and  fathers,  whose  children  had 
died  previously,  cast  their  effigies,  their  playthings,  their 
preserved  bones  into  the  fire.  Some  who  had  knives  rushed 
upon  the  rest.  They  slaughtered  one  another.  The  hiero- 
dules  took  the  fallen  ashes  at  the  edge  of  the  flagstone  in 
bronze  fans,  and  cast  them  into  the  air  that  the  sacrifice 
might  be  scattered  over  the  town  and  even  to  the  region 
of  the  stars. 

The  loud  noise  and  great  light  had  attracted  the  Barba- 
rians to  the  foot  of  the  walls  ;  they  clung  to  the  wreck  of 
the  helepolis  to  have  a  better  view,  and  gazed  open- 
mouthed  in  horror. 


DATE  DUE 

-H  fi 

GO 

HOD 

VPR    6  1970 

. 

GAYLOfiD 

PRINTED  IN  U.S.A. 

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UC  SOUTHERN  F^ON- ,j,||,llllimim   1 1 


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